The Man Who Knew Too Little
by Card Carrying Villains
Summary: Death agrees to help the Winchesters deal with Castiel after the S6 finale. But then the angel shows up in person, and everything changes. Destiel and other assorted pairings. By Clubs and Jokers
1. Chapter 1

The Man Who Knew Too Little

A Fic By Jokers and Clubs

Ch. 1: by Jokers

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><p>"Oh for…I don't care about the avian flu. Can you help us or not!" Dean's lip curled into a frown as he snapped at Death. The supernatural being had, upon being asked whether he could deal with Castiel - not kill, Dean didn't think he could stand actually ordering Cas' death - launched into a rant about the various maladies plaguing mankind and keeping him busy. In alphabetical order. It was a very long list. Dean was no stranger to untimely demises, but even he wasn't aware that so many lethal things came before "avian" in the alphabet.<p>

"Why should I? I'm very busy." Death, his thin face molded into an expression of detached amusement. Dean crushed the sudden urge to punch in the Horseman's pointy nose, reminding himself that the pale bastard was their only lead on how to…handle…Castiel. Dean's anger still didn't fade, but he was able to restrain himself by mentally pledging to gank some supernatural baddies as soon as Death was gone.

None of them had actually wanted to contact Death about Castiel's newfound god complex, least of all Dean. As soon as the Winchesters plus Bobby had arrived home, which took some time considering their lack of a vehicle, the three of them had dug into Bobby's extensive collection of books. It had taken a week, a reading of everything Bobby owned with letters on it (twice), and far more whiskey than was at all healthy, but eventually even the older Winchester brother had to admit they had no other option.

Standing across from Death, though, Dean was beginning to wish they had read through Bobby's library a few more times, if only as a stalling tactic. It had taken a lot of work to get the Pale Horseman into the room with them, and it was taking even more work to get him to do more than sip tea and tell them exactly _why_ he had no time to get rid of some upstart little godling. Dean had chafed at that description of Castiel, but hadn't exactly been able to argue. They were, after all, trying to get Death to help them, and the hunter doubted his opinion of the ancient creature would make said creature any more willing.

Dean continued to glare at Death, who seemed completely oblivious to the tension in the air. Sam, who had been leaning against the door frame, sighed and stood up, "Look. Death. I know that you're very busy..."

"Finally, someone understands my situation." Death's voice is a mix of genuine exasperation and sarcasm.

"But," Sam paused for dramatic effect, "That's exactly why you have to help us."

"I fail to see your point, boy." Death said, irritation displayed on his harsh features. Sam blinked, then continued as though he didn't understand how Death could miss something so obvious. Dean wondered when his brother had gotten so devious, and then quickly decided he probably didn't want to know.

"It's simple. Castiel is a god, right? And from what we saw at the warehouse, not a friendly one either. He threatened to kill us if we didn't bow to him! Now, if he goes around doing that to everyone on Earth, somehow I doubt there will be too many takers. And the ones who refuse? Well…"

"You'll have a lot more work to do, Death." Dean finished, a small smile tugging on his lips. It disappeared when he remembered it was _Cas_, the same Cas who was his best friend, that they were trying to get killed. Dean tried to tell himself that that Cas was gone, but somehow he didn't think he would be able to. At least, not as long as the angel wore Jimmy's body. Not as long as he could still see Cas' blue eyes, as long as he still had the same voice. As long as he still looked the same as when Dean fell in lo-.

Dean cut off that train of thought abruptly, reminding himself that he was a _very_ heterosexual male, and turned his attention back to Death. Death looked torn, wanting to go back to his happily apathetic existence but knowing that would soon become impossible regardless of his decision. Finally, the Horseman shook his head, a defeated look on his face.

"Fine. But this is the last time I clean up your mess for you, Winchesters."

"What'll you need?" Bobby, who had been uncharacteristically silent the entire meeting, spoke up.

"Nothing that someone like you could provide me with. I have all of my tools, I only need my-"

"Target." Dean spun around at the sound of the familiar, husky voice. Castiel looked horrible. His vessel was covered in sores and scratches, looking almost burnt in a few places, most likely from when the angel's new power had been too much for the human body. Dean found himself almost glad Jimmy was gone, that he couldn't feel his own flesh sizzling and cracking. He looked like he was going to die, right then and there, without any intervention by the Horseman himself, but that wasn't what bothered Dean most about Castiel's appearance. No, what bothered Dean most about him were his eyes, swirling blue typhoons, unnaturally bright with madness and framed by dark shadows. They locked onto Dean's, and for a moment, the hunter thought he saw Cas. Not Castiel, the unnaturally powerful fallen angel who was so strong it was tearing apart his mind and body at the seams but Cas, the holy tax accountant who didn't understand anything about living as a human and who fell from Heaven for Dean as soon as he figured it out.

Then it was gone, and all that was left was an avenging god whose orders the Winchesters had just disobeyed. Castiel raised a hand in Sam's direction, and the younger Winchester fell to the ground screaming, his hands clutching at his head. Bobby looked from Sam, to Dean, to Castiel, then finally to Death, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull. Death, on the other hand, just looked mildly unhappy with his situation. He frowned, then turned to Dean.

"I thought you said Castiel wasn't actually God."

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><p>AN: So, this is the first chapter. The next one will be by Clubs. For those of you who were confused by Death's last line, I'll explain. The previous times god has been typed, it wasn't capitalized. Castiel was just another silly pagan god who thought he could take his daddy's place. But the last God is a proper noun. As in the Big G, the savior of everything, the man on the tortillas, which is totally different from Death's perspective. Please R&amp;R!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

The Man Who Knew Too Little

Ch. 2: by Clubs

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><p>Dean looked at Death with a look that would have been confused had his brother not been writhing in agony on the ground across the room from him. Because of that fact, the hunter's expression was more impatient and exasperated.<p>

"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded of the Horseman, who looked back at him, simply looking annoyed.

"That is _not_ an angel of the Lord." He said, barely glancing at Castiel, whose main focus was on Sam, but who was looking towards Death at the moment, listening. "At least, not anymore."

"...what?" Dean asked, looking from Death to Castiel and back again, as if expecting one of them to start laughing or say "April fools!"

Needless to say, neither of them did. And it didn't seem like Death was going to elaborate without some prompting, so it was up to Bobby to take control of the situation and find out what the hell was going on.

"Well then what is he?" he asked. Death looked as though he may put a gun to his own head at the sheer stupidity he saw in the question.

"I believe I already told you. God. The _original _God. The supposed creator of all." The Horseman said. He didn't seem particularly bothered by the fact itself, just the fact that it had come as a surprise to him.

Sam's screams suddenly ceased as Castiel, or God as they now had been told he was, replaced the barrier in the younger Winchester's head. His full attention was on Death now, and he was smirking, a slightly amused glint in his ice cold eyes.

"Well, Death. I'm impressed."

"I don't see why," Death replied smoothly, "surely you can't expect me, a Horseman, to have such dull senses as to not sense such a powerful aura." He raised the cup of tea he had been drinking throughout his conversation with the Winchesters and Bobby to his lips. "I could smell you a mile away." He took a sip.

Castiel/God raised his eyebrows, skeptical of the Horseman's words.

"If that was the case, why were you surprised when I came here? Surely you were not expecting this."

"No, I must admit that I was not. However, I've gotten quite used to sensing you on Earth. Changing bodies did not alter the scent of you at all, so how was I to know what form you had taken?"

Dean had no idea how to react to this. Death and God were just idly chatting like old acquaintances while the deity was using his closest friend's body as his personal meat suit. Okay, _technically _it wasn't Castiel's body, but it _was_ his vessel, and that was close enough, dammit.

"Yeah, I'm actually wondering about that too." He spoke up, and both God and Death turned to look at him, mild interest on their faces. "See, I don't know if you've noticed, oh great and powerful creator or whatever, but that vessel is occupado. By my friend. Who just happens to be one of your kids, too." Dean's words were his usual tough and slightly mocking banter, but in his head he was scared shitless. Where _was_ Cas, if this wasn't him in his vessel? Was he still in there somehow? Bound and gagged by his own father? His creator? Or was he forced back up to heaven? He internally shuddered at the memory of the last time his angel had been forced back there against his will. They had almost brainwashed him completely. And if God himself was intervening now...who knew what kind of shit they were in.

"Hardly," God answered, tone dismissive, "what kind of a son would openly go against my will? Go against what I had planned for the world?" he sighed, with almost a hint of regret in his eyes, but not quite. "I had hoped that he would come around, see how things were meant to be if I showed him my will to bring him back from death. But I suppose I was the one at fault. This only led him further down the self-destructive path of attempting freedom from what is meant to be."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing.

_"Self-destructive path?_ He was just trying to do what he thought was right! What about all those times he asked you for help? For guidance? Where the fuck were you then?"

"Dean..." Sam muttered quietly, a warning to his hot-headed brother that maybe pissing off what was arguably the most powerful being in the universe wasn't such a good idea. Dean ignored him in favor of glaring at said being, ignoring the cold prickle he felt in his chest at the familiarity of the eyes that were staring back at him.

"I'm not sure you understand the magnitude of what it is to be the creator of all, Dean. Every day, thousands upon thousands pray to me, asking of me so much. I hear them all, all the time. One little voice of a lost angel does not grab my attention. Especially if said angel is going against me."

To everyone in the room's surprise (or maybe just the humans, it was hard to tell with Death and God), Dean laughed at those words. It was a harsh, bitter laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"Wow. You know, I thought I knew something about douche fathers, but you," he shook his head, still laughing, "you take the damn cake, you know that?"

"Call me what you like Dean. Either way, it's you who's going to pay the price in the end."

"What, are you going to smite me?" Another snort. God smirked at the hunter's words.

"No, of course not. I just think it would be quite the impossible miracle if you two managed to stop the Apocalypse _a second time_."

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, well I'm really excited about the whole season 7 premier that just aired earlier tonight. So I think that officially makes this an AU fic (not that there was any real possibility that this would actually happen, but whatever). Either way, hope you like this chapter. Apparently I overuse the word "expression", so I tried to limit that, if that's even possible for me. And yes, I realize it's short, but it looked a lot longer on word, and that was really the best part to stop at. Please do not smite me for giving you another cliffhanger (FYI: God is really fun to write for. I'm probably going to hell for this).**


	3. Chapter 3

The Man Who Knew Too Little

Ch 3: By Jokers

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><p>Dean had been staring at the wall for several hours wondering precisely what the hell was going on. God had left the building immediately after announcing the continuation of the Apocalypse, and that left the elder Winchester with several questions. Such as how God had come to possess Cas in the first place, what they were going to do about it, and how the almighty Douche Bag intended to start the Apocalypse when all of the players were dead, unwilling, or imprisoned in Hell. It wasn't like God could –<p>

There was a sharp thud against the window. Dean looked up, fully prepared for it to be a legion of Hellspawn dressed for war with God smirking at them from the lead with Cas' mouth. Instead, it was just Gabriel, standing across the junkyard with a mildly irritated expression and holding a rock in a throwing position. When he saw Dean looking at him, he dropped his arm and began to move closer. Dean gaped.

"So, Dean, what are we going to do now," Sam strode into the room, holding a plate of sandwiches. Catching sight of Dean's face, he followed his older brother's gaze, mouth opening and closing like a fish, "Wha-" Gabriel smiled at the Winchester's faces, waving at them cheerily. He reached the doorway of Bobby's house and stopped, crossing his arms and staring at them.

The Winchesters ran over to the front door, opening it and staring at the distinctly-not-dead archangel. Of the two of them, Sam regained his powers of speech first, "Wha...you...how?" Gabriel looked distinctly unimpressed.

"How what? How am I alive? Elementary, dear Sammy. Dad resurrected me." Dean's eyes narrowed.

"You mean the guy who's possessing Cas and intends to destroy the world?"

"Yeah. That guy. Look, he didn't resurrect me to agree with him or anything. I've always figured he was a dick, and now I have the proof."

"Then why? Why the hell would God resurrect someone who hated him?" Sam had bitchface number 72 going, and under most other circumstances Dean would have laughed at him, but he figured his expression was probably just as bad.

"Umm...to make it more fun. Duh. I think that might be the only thing I inherited from the guy." Gabriel shrugged, "He resurrected all of the archangels."

"Even the one he played the old exploding snap with less than a week ago," Dean asked. Gabriel nodded. "What was the point of that then?"

"Because he thought it would be hilarious? I don't know. I don't have a psychic relay with the guy."

"Okay then, so say we believe you."

"Which we do."

"Not helping Sammy." Sam had the decency to at least look sorry, though Dean didn't believe him for a minute.

"So if we believe you, I still have one question."

"Shoot." Gabriel unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it in his mouth. Dean wasn't sure , but it looked like an unholy hybrid between strawberry, banana, and pure sugar. It probably was.

"Why the hell did you teleport over there," Dean gestured to the other side of the scrapyard, "Instead of our house?"

"Well," Gabriel said, the lollipop somehow not hindering his speech in any manner, "you know those anti-angel wards you put up around the house? The ones that have no effect on the people who you're trying to keep out as they either are, or are allied with, God? Well, they're keeping me out. And let me tell you, it's getting pretty irritating."

"Oh." Dean looked rather dumbstruck, "I'll find Bobby then."

It took surprisingly little time to remove the anti-angel wards on the house. Less than an hour. Once they were removed though, Gabriel didn't enter the house. He simply stood there, looking slightly awkward.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I didn't...I didn't actually come alone."

"Who did you bring? Did God resurrect more than just archangels?" Dean ran through the list of dead angels mentally. The only one he could think of helping him was Anna, and considering the last time they met he wasn't sure he really wanted her brand of assistance.

"No. Just us four."

"Then who?" Not Michael, starting the apocalypse was his _job_. Not Raphael. That only left Lucifer, and...Dean cut that thought off right there.

"Miss me, Sammy boy?" Sam turned, then jumped backwards, only prevented from falling down by Dean putting a steadying hand on his shoulder. Lucifer had suddenly appeared behind them, a rather disturbing smile on his no longer rotting face.

"Why the hell is he here?" Dean resisted the urge to punch the Morningstar, knowing it wouldn't do much good. Sammy, however, looked like he might just do it anyway.

"Oh calm down, boys. I'm not here to kidnap your baby brother," Lucifer's smile widened, showing too many teeth, "Well, not _this_ time."

"Then what _are_ you doing here?"

"Well...I..." The fallen angel actually looked uncomfortable, and Dean felt pride in the achievement.

"He's going to help us." Gabriel spoke up. "Turns out Lucy here," Lucifer looked like he wanted to argue about the nickname, but instead settled for just looking irked, "doesn't actually give all that much of a damn about humans. He just needed a good excuse to betray God."

"Huh?" Dean was sure he didn't have a very intelligent expression, but he really didn't care at this point.

"Well, ape, let me put it in simpler terms so you can understand. If I were to have walked up to the most devout beings in the universe and told them that God was a complete monster, how many of them would have listened? I needed a reason to fight him, or else I would have been on my own. Not that the others were much help."

"But...you're evil! Completely batshit! You get your kicks from sitting in a box and torturing people!" The Devil just looked at Dean incredulously.

"Hey, you try being stuck in hell for thousands of topside-years, see how long you last. Oh wait. We already know. Four months. Which, last time I checked, was less than a couple million. Unless I forgot math after all that time sitting in the cage with nothing but _pain_ to keep me company."

"What, so you want us to believe you're better now? Fixed? On our side?"

"No. I'm not on your side, and I'm certainly not fixed. I'm on the 'not god' side, which just so happens to make you my allies. At least until Daddy Dearest is choking on his own blood."

"I'm not working with him."

"Aww, come on Sammy, you know you love me." Sam looked sick. Dean sighed. Her really didn't want to work with the grinning asshole either, but...

"Come on Sam, just until we kill God and fix Cas. Then we can throw the bastard back into his box and let him rot for the rest of eternity." Sam bit his lip, putting on bitchface 93. He seemed torn between wanting to gank the fallen angel and wanting to kill the God who caused the problem in the first place, then gank the fallen angel. The latter eventually won out, and the tall man sighed.

"Fine."

"Great! Let's get started then. The sooner this is over with, the sooner I can get back to my heathen lifestyle and piss on my father's memory," Gabriel clapped his hands, looking incredibly pleased with the prospect, "But first things first," Gabriel looked around conspiratorially.

"What?" Dean asked, unsure if he could survive dealing with Gabriel for long stretches of time.

"Lucifer. Give me another one of those lollipops." The mad archangel gave a long-suffering sigh and handed his brother the candy, this time an ugly shade of puce swirled with murky pond scum. Dean could almost feel his teeth rotting.

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><p>AN: CHAPTER THREE YAY. So, just FYI, unless something weird happens, this will not be Sabriel OR Samifer. Because. Well. Just because.


	4. Chapter 4

The Man Who Knew Too Little  
>Chapter 4: by Clubs<p>

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><p>Michael found himself standing in a field, caught off-guard at the sudden change from the black and fire of the Cage. He recognized this field. It was where he and Lucifer had been, finally about to meet in their legendary battle to end all battles. Until all that was ruined by Dean fucking Winchester.<p>

The resurrected archangel spat in disgust at the thought that that boneless meat puppet had been planned to be his vessel. In all honesty, Michael didn't have a problem with humans. He had little patience, however, for self-righteous humans trying to play God and stop the Apocalypse. With one of his younger brothers, no less.

Not that Michael _wanted_ to have to kill Lucifer, whom he had loved dearly before this whole mess had started, but he couldn't go against his Father's will. He was a sheep, following the Shepherd, though that might mean he was blind.

A fact which he was starting to realize as he stood in the field.

There was the all too familiar sound of fluttering wings behind him, and he turned around, attempting to mask his surprise at seeing Castiel there, regarding him with a strange sort of half-smirk.

"Castiel." He said, deadpanning. He wasn't sure whether he should be angry or not at the sight of the younger angel who had betrayed him and God. He had never been particularly close to Castiel, him being a minor angel in a small garrison. Still, he was an angel of the Lord, and therefore family.

Castiel laughed once, humorlessly, "Michael...you would really mistake me for your lowly underling of a bother? Can't you feel my Presence?"

Michael blinked, noticing for the first time the feeling, the pure energy rolling in almost tangible waves off of Castiel's body, and he suddenly understood. He couldn't prevent his jaw from going just a bit slack.

"Father..." he whispered, full of awe. He hadn't heard from or seen God in centuries, maybe even Millennia.

"Hello Michael. My son." God replied, smile widening. He stepped forward, reaching out to put a hand on the archangel's shoulder. He frowned when Michael stepped back, face serious and a little cold. "Why Michael, is that any way to greet me?"

"I don't know, father. After all you've put me through, how _should_ I greet you?" Michael replied, gaze mistrustful. After he had gotten over the initial surprise of his father being there, he was less than happy to see him. "I had some time to think while you let me rot in that cage with the brother you trained me to despise. I'm not sure you are as all-knowing as I once thought you to be."

God cocked his head to the side, in a similar fashion to what Castiel used to do when confused. However, his expression was one of pity rather than confusion, though the emotion didn't reach his eyes. In fact, no emotions were reaching those cold orbs. It was almost the exact opposite of Castiel, who had never really gotten the hang of facial expressions, but could always be read through by looking at his eyes.

"My son...my most loyal child...how I've feared hearing those words from you." God heaved a sigh, turning his head to the side to look out over the rest of the field. "But I am not to blame for your terrible misfortune. I promise you, I would not have wished the weight you bear upon anyone. Least of all one of my children. I really do love you, all of you." His words were met with a moment of silence.

"...is that what you told Lucifer?" Michael asked quietly.

"Michael, I had no _choice_ but to throw Lucifer into Hell."

"What do you mean?" the archangel asked, brow furrowed.

"I mean Lucifer made a mistake. And if mistakes to unpunished, if disobedience is allowed once, then what? Chaos would reign. He had to be cast down for the sake of heavenly order. Would _you _attempt to argue with Fate?" Even when God said this, Michael was skeptical.

"And what of the Apocalypse? Wasn't that supposedly fated as well?" he asked. God nodded.

"Indeed. And that is why I need you. The Winchesters dared to trap you both in Hell, to try and stop the inevitable. That is why I must intervene and set things right."

But Michael shook his head. Fate be damned, he did not want to have to keep confronting Lucifer on the whim of a father who had abandoned them all for so long.

"I cannot fight. Not again. I have been through this too many times already. I will not betray Lucifer again."

"My poor child," God said, smiling sadly, expression returning to pity, "Lucifer has already betrayed you." The deity knew he was on the right track when Michael's eyes widened. He smiled internally. So close...

"What?" the archangel's voice was little more than a whisper. God nodded.

"He has already allied himself with the very Hunters that threw you down into the pit. Allied against you, and against me. He is planning your demise as we speak."

"How do I know you're not lying to me?" Michael accused, still defiant although his certainty was wavering. God stepped forward, the pitying expression returning to his face. He reached out again, and although Michael didn't look comfortable with the contact, he didn't pull away again.

"Look at me, my son. Look at me and know that what I say is the truth." Again, Michael was hesitant to make contact, even if it wasn't physical, but he reluctantly met his father's gaze. It almost made him shudder. Again, although he had never had much contact with Castiel in heaven, and had only seen him once on earth in his vessel, there was such a powerful difference between the angel's soft blue irises and the Creator's icy grey that he almost had to drop his gaze again. It was almost painful to delve into the mind of his father, like his Grace and mind were being burned in the white-hot power. But he grit his vessel's teeth and forced himself through it, sifting through the mind and memories presented before him to know the truth.

He withdrew, resigned. His father had spoken the truth. He would have to fight then, if just to survive.

"Do you see now?" God asked, and he nodded, scowling at the grass around their feet. He looked almost like a pouting child.

"Yes father. I must fight." He said.

God smiled to himself. His children were so easy to fool.

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><p>"Michael." Raphael drew his sibling's attention by calling out to him, and the elder archangel turned around. He was still standing in the field, though his father had since left.<p>

"Brother. Or is it sister now?" Was the reply.

Raphael shrugged, "I suppose sister would be best." She had, after all, taken two female vessels in a row. Though that didn't seem quite enough to signify a preference, she felt…more comfortable…in these bodies than she had in her first. That comfort was relative, however, as she still felt the urge to burst from her mortal shell, from the physical restraints confining her to the physical world.

Raphael paused for a moment, unsure how to continue speaking to her oldest sibling. She knew what she had to say, but not precisely _how_. Michael had been in Hell when she had been murdered, so he didn't know about the incident. Raphael, herself, had been killed before God revealed His part in the homicide. It had taken a few moments for her to piece together the truth after her resurrection.

"Where is Lucifer?" she asked. It was as good a place as any to start. Michael shook his head.

"We cannot reach him where he is. He and Gabriel are plotting against me and against Father." He said.

When Michael had looked into God's mind and seen Gabriel's betrayal as well, seen that he was also working with Lucifer and the Winchesters, he had been filled with a crushing sadness. Gabriel had never really been all that close to Michael, the two being so drastically different, but Michael still felt a certain amount of compassion towards his fellow archangel, his brother. Apparently that compassion was not returned. Though he had never thought that Gabriel would ever side with Lucifer...

Raphael might be the only one to sympathize with him, and although he desperately wanted to avoid dragging anyone else into this, he knew he would probably have to in order to prevent the Devil from winning.

"Michael, what has Father said to you?" Raphael asked, poorly masked urgency in her tone. Michael blinked, uneasy now.

"Why? What's the matter?" he asked.

"I would be wary of anything he's told you." Rafael said bluntly. Michael stepped forward, closing the distance between them even more.

"Sister," he said, the urgency now present in his voice, "what has happened?"

The younger archangel made to reply, to tell him of her murder at the hands of their Father, that perhaps associating with Him would be dangerous, but was cut off before she could say anything.

"There you are Raphael. I've been expecting you."

Rafael turned around, seeing Castiel—who was not Castiel at the moment—standing there, smiling at her.

"Father," she said, sounding surprised although she had been suspecting that God would eventually find her. Like he had with Michael, God stepped forward, reaching out to touch his child, and although she greatly desired to, Raphael found herself unable to pull away. Her Father's stolen fingers gently touched along her face, with tenderness similar to that of a lover. But she wouldn't focus on that creepy thought just then...

Then again, she didn't really seem to be able to focus on _any _thought just then. A kind of haze swept into her head, and she found herself unable to focus on anything at all. Her eyes glazed over and she felt like she was floating, not a thought or a care or a worry in the world. She didn't register the grin that spread across her Father's face, and with Raphael blocking Michael's view, neither did the other archangel.

When God let his hand drop again, and Raphael remained silent and unmoving, Michael's uneasiness grew.

"Raphael?" he said. Raphael turned around, and there was a kind of cloudy haze in her eyes for just a second, but when she blinked her vessel's eyes, it was gone.

"Yes Michael?" She replied. Michael looked at her for a moment before shaking his head.

"It...is nothing."

"Raphael, Michael. You must prepare yourselves. The Apocalypse _must_ come to pass, and you two, as the last remaining faithful children of Heaven, must play your parts." God commanded. Raphael did not hesitate to nod.

"Yes father." She said, and Michael nodded as well, though more hesitantly. With the affirmation, God smiled, disappearing.

"Rafael, what were you going to tell me?" Michael asked as soon as their father had gone.

"Nothing of import Michael." Was the offhand reply. It couldn't have been that important if she couldn't even remember what it was that she was going to tell his brother. "Come, we should prepare."

Michael followed his sister, though his actions held less conviction. As unwilling as he had been before, a deep sense of unease had settled over him after this confusing meeting with Raphael. He couldn't help but wonder if this was the right thing to do.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm not sure how to feel about this chapter, considering that after writing it I'm actually beginning to feel sorry for the archangels. Even though they're all pretty much dicks. And then there's the matter of God being a manipulative bastard, but that's neither here nor there...**

**ANYWAY, just so it's clear: Michael was shown either VERY edited or selective memories to make it appear as though he would have to fight just to survive, or everything God showed him was a lie. He's God. He can do that. And then what happened with Raphael was that God basically removed her memories of being killed, so she has no reason to not follow God in his quest to restart the Apocalypse. He also may have edited Raphael's brain a little bit to make her extra-willing to help out. It's easier to manipulate her because she's a younger and less powerful archangel. Or at least that's how it works in THIS fanfiction. So there.**

**So here's your little peek into what's happening with God and the other archangels. And it's pretty safe to assume that most, if not all the lower-level angels are going to follow Michael with whatever he does, so...chalk that up in God's pro-Apocalypse army. Sucks for Team Free-Will, don't it? Ah well.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! Next chapter is going to be INTENSELY LONG so...prepare yourselves. Jokers just started writing and...I guess she just never really stopped until she had like eight pages, so...yeah...**


	5. Chapter 5

The Man Who Knew Too Little

ch 5: Jokers

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><p>Lucifer sulked in the Panic Room, wishing very desperately that he could simply murder the three hunters upstairs. Well, two of them at least. Killing Sam would be rather counter-productive.<p>

_'But I _can't _possess Sam anymore because that would bring about the _Apocalypse. _Stupid Apocalypse.'_ Never mind that he had wanted to bring about the Apocalypse just a few hours ago. Funny how finding that your interests align with your bastard of a Father can change your viewpoint so drastically. He still hated the Winchesters though. He just didn't hate them for the reason the monkeys probably thought.

Lucifer didn't actually despise the Winchester boys when he first saw them. He just pitied them (well, the small part of him that still _felt_ an emotion as stupid as pity did). He pitied them because he knew what it was like, being forced to fight against one dearest brothers to the death. Because Michael _was_ one of his dearest brothers, once upon a time. The fact that their former relationship might have only worsened his insanity when it finally began to set in flitted across his mind, but he pushed it away. He wasn't insane.

But no, he didn't hate the Winchesters for being vessels, or for being humans. He hated them because they escaped. Both of them had gone to Hell as he had, and both of them had been broken. Then they had been freed and, though there were a few cracks, fixed. He had no Castiel to raise him from Perdition, no brother to nurse him back to health, mentally or physically. _His_ brothers had all left him to burn for a small mistake, only noticing him when he _forced_ them to pay attention. Then Castiel _swallowed Purgatory_, and everyone forgave him within the hour! Even Gabriel, who hadn't deigned to so much and try to save him, was working tirelessly to save precious. Little. Castiel.

Yes, Lucifer hated all of them with every fiber of his being. Including (especially) his brothers, and he fully intended to murder all of them as soon as the Almighty Asshole was dead. Lucifer ignored the little voice in his head that told him no, he didn't hate anyone, he was just trying to avoid taking responsibility for his actions. It had whispered to him many times in the Cage, but it had always left as soon as it realized he wasn't listening, made meeker by the atrocities he committed in favor of paying attention. Now though, there was nothing to scare it away. It only got louder every time he tried to tell it off, clawing its way to the front of his mind. Lucifer bit his lip and held back a sob as the reprimanding voice suddenly morphed into a permeating guilt. _I deserve it. This is all my fault. I should just go back. Nonononono. it isn't true. It isn't..._The Morningstar couldn't remember what he was thinking, only that he hurt, that it hurt and it was all his fault and why was he crying? He wasn't supposed to cry, but it wouldn't stop.

The fallen angel wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in them. He still had just enough pride left to not make any noise.

* * *

><p>Gabriel sighed and slammed the thick tome he was reading shut. He <em>wanted<em> to help Castiel, he wouldn't let anyone say otherwise, but he couldn't stop his mind from wandering to his other brothers, the archangels. They made a rather interesting little quartet of siblings: two daddy's boys, a mentally fractured family favorite and him. Gabriel had long ago come to accept that when _he_ was the most sane member of a family, that family needed a therapist. Not that they would ever find a therapist that didn't run screaming at the sight of them.

Gabriel looked toward the door that led toward the Panic Room. He needed to clarify some things with Lucifer. The two of them hadn't spoken at all since before the common era, and what communication they had had since their meeting had only confused things even more. Not that meeting before that would have made much of a difference anyway, as he probably would have just told Lucifer to fall back into the literal Pit that he had crawled out of. He didn't want to associate with the violent misanthrope; he liked humans too much to enable someone who wanted to purposely destroy them. Now, though, he was beginning to wonder if he might have been wrong in labeling his older brother a hater of man, considering the way that Lucifer had spoken when they met. He didn't _understand_, though, and he had a feeling he wouldn't until he spoke to The Morningstar personally.

Gabriel stared at the door for a few more minutes before coming to a decision. The former Messenger of God stood up and slipped out of the library, eyes shifting back to ensure no one had noticed his exit.

* * *

><p><em>Gabriel hated coconut flavored lollipops with a passion. Which meant it probably wasn't a coincidence that, upon his resurrection, the vile confections were the only things in his pockets. It was probably even less of a coincidence that he had woken up next to Lucifer. Obviously, someone was angry with him.<em>

_Gabriel scowled at the figure lying in the soft grass. His brother's face was fully healed and, for once, peaceful. He looked too much like the angel that he once was, and Gabriel had to look away. The Trickster stared resolutely at a tree (it was a rather nice brown, with thin, pointy leaves that looked almost like needles but weren't. Tricky tree. Definitely worth staring at more instead of looking at the man who _killed _him) until a sudden scream forced him to look back at The Morningstar._

_Lucifer writhed in the earth, his skin bubbling with heat, his fingers digging into his scalp so deeply they drew blood. Gabriel pushed down a rush of sympathy for Lucifer as he realized this must have been what it was like in the Cage. He kneeled at the other angel's side, grabbing his shoulder a little more harshly than was strictly necessary and pouring some of his (surprisingly) still-pure grace into the devil._

_The effect was immediate. Lucifer stilled, his hands loosening their grip on his skull and the burns disappearing from his face. The fallen angel groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tightly for a moment before opening them. For a moment, he appeared calm, but that calm disappeared as soon as he realized who was looking down at him. He snarled and struggled with Gabriel, a wild madness in his too-bright eyes. Gabriel held firm, extremely glad his brother was still weak, though he couldn't help but worry about how pale the older angel was._

_Finally, the Morningstar stopped resisting, instead holding completely still and glaring at The Trickster with a look that could demolish buildings._

_"Gabriel."_

_"Lucifer."_

_"God resurrected you." There was no question about that, the only people with enough power to resurrect archangels were God and Death (who had no business with them and wouldn't go through the trouble of destroying the natural order of things just because)._

_"I guess so. But why did he bring _you _back?" Lucifer scoffed._

_"Fuck if I know," the fallen angel grimaced suddenly, taking a shaky breath, "Slimy bastard's probably up to something."_

_"Probably." There was an awkward pause._

_"Probably coming up with some convoluted and needlessly violent scheme to destroy the world," Lucifer said, and when Gabriel raised an eyebrow, he continued. "Oh _come on_, I _told _you three about what God was doing. What _I_ was doing. And when the time came you left me to _burn_!" Lucifer screamed the last word, jerking upward and forcing Gabriel off of him. The fallen archangel jumped on his brother and wrapped his hands around his younger sibling's neck. He leaned in close, his breathing quickening as he continued in a venomous tone, "I told you all God was evil. I told you what I was planning. _You _suggested I use humanity as a cover. Then, then you all condemned me to _Hell _for following _your _plan!" Gabriel blinked, confused. He tried to remember Lucifer telling him something like that, but failed. It made sense, however, as he _knew _God was a bastard, and he couldn't remember his almost impossibly sweet older brother even disliking specific people, much less an entire species, while they were in Heaven. Gabriel knew said brother probably wouldn't accept him denying knowledge of their supposed alliance, so instead The Trickster attempted to play along._

_"I'm sorry," Gabriel rasped, suddenly glad for his skills in art of lying. And for the fact that hands around his throat made his voice sound much rougher than normal, "I'm so sorry Luce."_

_He must have sounded particularly regretful, because Lucifer let go of him. The two angels then became very conscious of the fact that Lucifer was straddling Gabriel, and of exactly how close their faces were to each other. Lucifer quickly got off of Gabriel, sitting down a few feet away and glaring spitefully at his younger brother. They stayed this way until Gabriel decided it would be safe to go fishing for information again._

_"What I don't understand is, if God is so evil and you hate Him so much, why are you following His Apocalypse?" Lucifer blinked, looking surprised._

_"I...I was angry. I just wanted it all to end. I sat in the cage for so long that...well I guess I just stopped caring who was pulling the strings anymore."_

_"Now now, little Morningstar, apathy breeds sin." The two angels turned toward the voice, answering it simultaneously._

_"Castiel?" The overcoat-wearing figure in front of them laughed coldly, causing Gabriel to shiver._

_"Come, my children, don't tell me your senses have been so dulled by my absence that you cannot recognize me."_

_Gabriel furrowed his brow. The energy emanating from Castiel's vessel most certainly did not come from the Angel of Thursday, but it was familiar. It was darker, colder than he remembered it, but Gabriel recognized his Father's energy and realized that Lucifer was right. This was God, and he most certainly was very, very bad._

_God took a step forward, his head tilted to the side and a cruel smile on his face. Gabriel didn't know what the deity intended to do, but he didn't care to find out. Grabbing his brother's left arm, the Messenger teleported the two of them away._

_They landed in Bobby Singer's scrapyard, Lucifer collapsing to his knees from exhaustion. Gabriel waited for Lucifer to recover enough to ask why they had gone there in particular. He didn't have to wait long._

_"Why are we in the Winchesters' yard?"_

_"Technically we aren't. We're in Bobby Singer's yard. The Winchesters just live here," Lucifer looked like he wanted to destroy something. Gabriel sighed in mock defeat, "Fine. I'll tell you. God's back, right? And He's possessing the Winchesters' BFF Castiel, right? Well, we want God gone. They probably want our little brother back, a goal which I for one share. This means we all have similar interests, and we're going to need allies if we're going to survive murdering the _Creator of the Universe. _Whatever you might think about the Winchesters, they're good at surviving."_

_Lucifer frowned, but nodded in defeat. Gabriel reached into his pocket, making a disappointed sound as he remembered his coconut-filled predicament. Lucifer stared at his younger brother, an innocently amused expression on his face Gabriel hadn't seen in years, then reached into a pocket of his own and retrieved a sucker. Gabriel looked over his brother, forgetting that they were angry with each other for just a moment, and smiled._

_"I missed you, Lucy."_

* * *

><p>Gabriel began descending the stairs to the Panic Room, careful not to make any unnecessary noises. It wouldn't do to alert Lucifer to his intentions before he got to the basement. The other angel would probably overreact to someone loudly crashing down stairs toward his jail cell.<p>

As he walked downwards, The Trickster tried to figure out precisely what Lucifer had meant when he had stated that they had an alliance. It didn't make any sense. The last time he had spoken to Lucifer, the older angel hadn't…he couldn't actually remember. He spoke with all four of the archangels about something…but it was all fogged up. The angel stopped walking, attempting to recall what it was his brother had spoken to them about. When he tried to think about it though, it felt like he was hitting a wall, his thoughts redirected to another memory. He pushed, refusing to budge from the memory, and after a few seconds, the wall broke.

It felt like his head was exploding. Gabriel clutched his head, biting his lip as his vision began to darken. The angel briefly felt a falling sensation, but then he didn't think about it at all, because he was somewhere else.

* * *

><p><em>"What?" Gabriel's eyes flicked boredly in Michael's direction. The Messenger yawned. Whatever Lucifer had whispered into Michael's ear had most likely been shocking, but Gabriel couldn't really think of anything to justify how much drama Michael had put into that one word. Castiel had probably almost stepped on a fish again.<em>

_"Trust me, Michael. I _heard _him. He was speaking of it with Joshua."_

_"What are you talking about, Lucifer?" Raphael interrupted as he came into view. The second-youngest archangel looked mildly concerned._

_"God. He. I was near the Garden and I heard him. He was speaking with Joshua and…what he said. He…"_

_"Tell us, Lucifer," Michael commanded, looking sterner than Gabriel had seen him. The younger angel sat up, suddenly interested._

_"God…He is not as all-powerful as we thought," Raphael looked like he wanted to object, but Michael stopped him with a raised hand, a concerned look on his face, "He is a being more powerful than all of us combined, but he isn't omnipotent. And what power He does have is running low. It has been since He created humanity."_

_"What? God can't be running low on power! We have to help Him!" Everyone gave Raphael a look, silencing him._

_"He…has a plan. And He does need our help. But not how you think," Lucifer took a deep breath, "He intends to take over one of us and…absorb our powers."_

_"Just us? That's a small price to pay for God."_

_"No…not just us. All the angels and…several humans as well. Two cities. Sodom and Gomorrah. But those are not until later when," Lucifer looked vaguely sick, "There are more inside the walls to kill."_

_"That's ridiculous, Lucifer, God would never do something like that. He would find another way." Raphael looked like he wanted to commit physical violence against his brother for suggesting such a thing, but he quickly pushed down the rage._

_"You don't understand. The way He talked about us, it was like we were all pieces on a game board. We don't exist for any purpose other than _amuse _him, Raphael! Amuse him and then die, shattered into millions of little pieces after he tosses us aside. And he…"_

_"What?"_

_"He caught me, listening. He dragged me into the Garden and He showed me a taste, just a taste, of what He plans to do to all of us. He…he…" Lucifer choked back a sob, and Michael put a hand on his shoulder, "I can't even say all of the things that he did to me. And then He said 'It's too bad you came so early, little Lucifer. I could have finished. But for now, I still need you in your place,' and then He put a finger to my head and I forgot. I tried to remember, but I just couldn't. I went back to my duties, unaware of what had occurred," Tears flowed down Lucifer's face as Michael's arms circled his shoulder. Michael looked at a loss, uncomfortable with the fact that he didn't know how to help, "But then, I was speaking with Uriel, and he mentioned a city called Sodom and…and I remembered. As soon as I recovered, I came here, to tell you what I learned. Please. I'm telling the truth, believe me."_

_"It's alright Lucifer. It's alright. We trust you, it's just…" Michael trailed off._

_"This is God you're talking about. The Father of _everything._" Gabriel spoke up for the first time, standing up._

_"I know, Gabriel. It's true, though. Trust me."_

_Raphael stalked forward and put his hands on either side of Lucifer's head without warning. Raphael's face remained stony for a moment before his expression twisted into one of confusion, then surprise and betrayal. He let go._

_"He's telling the truth. God is…" The four angels stood in silence, Michael still embracing Lucifer, Raphael near them, and Gabriel standing apart from the group. The youngest archangel regained his voice fastest, voicing the thought that was on all of their minds._

_"We have to do something. We have to stop him."_

_"Stop God," Raphael looked like he was about to cry, "How?_

_"We'd have to…kill Him." Michael said, hesitantly._

_"Kill Him? Can we even do that?" Gabriel asked._

_"You heard Lucifer, He's getting weaker. The four of us, if we had help, could surely destroy Him."_

_"But…kill God?" Raphael asked, "Kill father?"_

_"We have to, Raphael. We have to kill Him, or He will kill all of our brothers."_

_"I…" Raphael trailed off, then nodded, looking reluctantly accepting._

_"How will we do it?" Lucifer asked, curiously._

_"We need to gather people to our cause." Michael said firmly._

_"But who would believe us? Not all angels can read minds like me, and none of them would take our word that God is…evil." Raphael still looked unhappy with the situation, but he appeared to be recovering._

_"We'll need a proxy. A false cause that will draw angels to our side. It needs to be something that's controversial." Michael stroked his chin thoughtfully. Gabriel thought for a moment, before an idea suddenly popped into his mind._

_"Humans," His three brothers looked at him as though he were insane, so he clarified, "I can tell you at least thirty angels, high ranking ones, who think that the humans are a mistake. We could convince them that God's gone senile or something, that he needs to be removed from power. We don't need to tell them that we're going to…kill him. They can be a distraction, make sure that no one stops us, and we can figure out which ones would be willing to help us."_

_"That…could work. We can't all be a part of the rebellion though, God would notice. Maybe…one of us could actively rebel and the others could pretend to be good little angels until the time comes. Then we could strike him down when he least expects it." Michael, for having been so dedicated to God just minutes before, was now fully immersed in the plan. It appeared that his role as Protector of angels was more powerful than whatever loyalty he had to his Father. The oldest angel stepped back from Lucifer, his face considerate._

_"Who, though?" Lucifer asked. Michael paused._

_"It has to be you, Luce," Lucifer opened his mouth to say something, but Michael stopped him by saying, "Look, Lucifer, God already doesn't trust you. If one of us were to betray him, then he would still suspect you. Besides, who else could it be? Raphael and I are too loyal, and I don't think anyone would believe Gabriel if he were to propose revolution," Gabriel put on an expression of mock hurt, "Oh come on, Gabe, you know they'd just think you were taking a joke too far."_

_"You're right…I just…what if it fails? He would cast me down, or worse, and then I'd be alone. I don't think that I could stand being alone." Michael shifted so that he was placing a comforting hand on his younger brother's shoulder, then looked into his eyes seriously._

_"Lucifer, listen to me. No matter what happens, I promise you this: You'll never be alone. If this all goes wrong, we _will _save you." Lucifer nodded reluctantly. Michael gave him one last smile and turned to the other two archangels, going through strategies for the coming war as though he had been planning it for years._

* * *

><p>Gabriel groaned as he opened his eyes, wondering why his spine ached so much. After blinking groggily until his vision returned, the angel realized he was lying at the bottom of a set of stairs. The stairs he had been near the top of just moments ago. The Trickster sat up, confused as to what had happened. Then, the memory he had just recovered rose up into his mind with a vengeance, and Gabriel had to force back tears. Gabriel had met with Michael and Raphael the next day to solidify plans, but they hadn't been alone. God had been waiting for them at their meeting place, a false smile on His face.<p>

He had greeted them amiably, asking them what they were doing. They had each come up with a carefully prepared response, but God seemed to see through them all. He had reached forward, putting a hand on Michael and Raphael's shoulders, and said something about how obedient they were. After His hands were removed, the two angels stood still for several moments, eyes hazy and mouths curved up into euphoric smiles. Before Gabriel had had a chance to ask what was wrong, God had turned to him and grabbed his arm, His grin turning vicious as He did so.

The memory of the last day began to fade from his mind, and eventually he found his face relaxing into an expression similar to his brothers'. When Lucifer rebelled, the three of them had assumed he was genuinely malicious and when the time came Michael, the same angel who had promised him he would _never be alone_, had cast him into Hell. Gabriel had left Heaven, a strange bitterness he couldn't name in his Grace and a feeling of wrongness he couldn't explain in the pit of his stomach.

The Messenger stood, breaking into a run toward Lucifer's cell.

A strange keening sound forced Gabriel to slow down as he reached the Panic Room. He stopped at the door, putting his hand on the heavy steel door and cursing the anti-angel wards.

"Luce?"

"Gabe?" The voice was weak, and Gabriel knew Lucifer must have been out of it if he was willingly using his old nickname for The Trickster.

"What's wrong?"

"I…" The voice trailed off for a long time, and Gabriel began to worry that The Morningstar might have lost consciousness, but then he spoke again, even weaker than before, "The voice. It's telling me I'm bad and it's right and it hurts."

"Whose voice is it?" God's? Was the Almighty torturing His son even in Panic Room? Gabriel's questioning was cut off by Lucifer letting out one choked sob.

"Mine."

* * *

><p>AN So, yeah. This chapter and Club's Chapter were supposed to be together, but then this Chapter was over 3,800 words….so that didn't happen.


	6. Chapter 6

The Man Who Knew Too Little  
>Chapter 6: by Clubs<p>

Dean heaved a sigh, running his hands through his hair. He had never been much for the research part. That was always Sam with his magical laptop of technological wonders. Or Bobby with his old-as-shit books. Either way, they always did the research while he went to get drunk and have sex with random women. Because otherwise he just sat and complained about having to do research until Sam let him leave. That was the way things were. And when it came to things like this, Dean _hated_ change.

"This is bull." He said, slamming the musty book he had in front of him shut, a rather large cloud of dust billowing up in his face and making him cough when he did so. Sam sighed, the sort of sigh that usually signified the beginning of a long and boring lecture about patience and perseverance and some other shit that Dean never listened to.

"Dean..."

"We are not finding a damn thing here, Sammy. And you know why? Because there is nothing to find." The elder Winchester had stood up at this point and begun pacing around Bobby's living room. Sam almost rolled his eyes. _Here we go again..._

"Dean I think..."

"And where the hell is Gabriel? That sorry son of a bitch better not have skipped town."

"Oh Dean, your words pierce through me like an archangel blade to the heart." Both the Winchesters turned to Gabriel, who was standing in the doorway. Though his words were sarcastic as usual, he looked solemn, even worried.

"Gabriel, where were..." Sam began, but the youngest archangel cut him off.

"You need to let me in." Sam and Dean stared at him.

"Pardon?" Dean asked.

"The Panic Room. You need to let me in the Panic Room, dimwits." Gabriel said impatiently. Dean's eyes narrowed, suddenly full of suspicion.

"Why?" it was less of a question and more of a demand. Gabriel got that worried look again.

"There's something wrong. I...he needs help."

"Who, Lucifer? If you think I'm gonna let him out..." Again, Gabriel refused to wait through what was being said and cut Dean off rather violently.

_"It's my fault!"_

There was a long silence after the Trickster's outburst. Mostly because the brothers were speechless. They had seen Gabriel pissed, and on rare occasions worried or upset, but never had they actually seen him shed a tear. Yet there it was, sliding shamelessly down his face. He seemed to be taking a second to regain his composure.

"It's my fault. Our fault. Michael, Raphael, and I. We did this to him. He didn't betray us, we betrayed him." He said, his voice barely audible. "Now open that god damn door. I want to see my brother."

Sam and Dean were naturally full of questions, mostly consisting of "What the hell are you talking about?"

The look on Gabriel's face stopped them from asking.

"...okay." Sam agreed after a pause. He stood, compassion in his expression as well as confusion. "Okay."

* * *

><p>Lucifer did not yell. He did not cry. He did not shout. No, Lucifer <em>screamed<em>.

_I am wrong._

"No, no this was them! This was all them!"

_This is all my fault. All of it._

"No! No I have no guilt! They all deserved it!"

_Everyone I've killed or hurt. Everyone._

"They don't matter! They don't matter!"

_**I am wrong.**_

He broke down into sobs, clutching at his head. Why was this happening? Why him? Why?

"Luce?" he looked up at the voice, seeing his brother, seeing Gabriel. His younger sibling was peering down at him, his expression pained and full to the brim with regret.

"Gabe..." he whispered. He was vaguely aware of voices, the sound of someone whispering from behind the Trickster, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "Gabe, why? Why did you betray me? Why am I so wrong?"

"I am so sorry." Gabriel whispered back, "I didn't know what I was doing. None of us did. It was him. It was always him. That dickface took our memories. He turned us against you. I'm sorry."

"What's wrong with me?" Lucifer asked. Gabriel sighed. That was the $64 question.

"I don't know Lucy, I don't know."

* * *

><p>The frightening part for Dean was not that the Devil was having a mental breakdown in the basement. What frightened him was how reminiscent it was of when the wall in Sam's mind had been knocked down. He really didn't want to think about anything that connected his brother with The Morningstar (still kind of a touchy subject for them all), but it was seriously creeping him out. Which is why he had decided to not stick around after letting Gabriel in. Sam hadn't either, but that was more because he wanted to be courteous and give them space. Bobby, who had been out on a grocery run for the whole ordeal, had simply grunted when the brothers mentioned what was happening with the archangels.<p>

From what they had heard, the humans had gathered that God had in fact played some part in Lucifer's so-called rebellion, perhaps even caused it in the first place. They had also learned that the raving mad deity was to blame for the other archangels going against Lucifer as well.

This new information only served to make them even more alert and wary about what the Creator was doing. They hadn't yet heard of anything out of the ordinary (at least, nothing that would point to where God was or what his plans were), and were assuming that this was probably just the calm before the storm. Especially considering that there had been no sign of the other two archangels, and therefore it was fair to assume that they had joined with their father. Which was unfortunate, if predictable. The only question now was when they would show.

_And,_ Dean realized as he thought about it, _if they'll have any help from their Holy Army of Dicks._ He hadn't even thought of that before. What were the angels up in heaven doing? Did they even care? Were they _unaware_ of the fuckery that was happening with their more powerful brothers and father? Somehow that didn't seem possible.

Gabriel reappeared in the doorway to the basement and the Panic Room.

"Well?" Sam prompted him. The Messenger looked at him, then stepped out of the doorway, revealing a figure behind him. Lucifer stumbled slightly, and his face was covered with dull sheen of sweat. He had to grab onto Gabriel's arm for support, and his brother automatically pulled an arm around his shoulders to steady him.

Dean tensed, standing at the sight of the fallen angel.

"Why the hell did you let him out?" he asked, anger and mistrust obvious in his tone. Gabriel turned his gaze towards the older Winchester, his expression returning the hostility.

"What, did Cas forget your eyes when he brought you back from Hell?" he returned coldly. "Or was it just your brain? _He needs help._ Does this look like much of a threat to you?" he jerked his head towards the whimpering Morningstar. Dean's lips hardened into a thin line.

"Dean," Sam spoke up, looking at Lucifer with wary but concerned eyes, "maybe we should help him." When his brother greeted this suggestion with a disbelieving look, he sighed. "Dean, use your brain. If this does come down to a fight, like it or not, we're gonna need him. The odds already don't look good, even if he's battle-ready. Without him, we don't stand a chance."

Dean ran his hands through his hair, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

"Fine." He finally said, though he didn't look at all happy about it. "What's wrong with him?"

Gabriel led his older brother to a chair, letting him collapse into it. The Trickster took a deep breath, letting it out in a huff.

"Long story." He said, and the Winchesters immediately took their seats, getting comfortable as possible. Bobby, who had just come back from the kitchen with a beer in hand, turned around again. He was probably going to need another one for this.

* * *

><p>"So all this, the whole Michael and Lucifer betrayal, the Apocalypse, it was all God's doing? All of it?" Sam asked Gabriel, who nodded solemnly.<p>

"We were all used like the pawns we were supposed to be." He laughed once, but there wasn't much humor in it. "I knew he was a dick..."

Dean, who was pacing, shook his head. He was still skeptical. As usual.

"But why the killing? Why all the Devil stuff? If Mr. King of Hell here is really the nice guy, how do you explain all that crap?" Bobby, who rolled his eyes at Dean's questioning, spared Gabriel from answering.

"Well why do you think? Guy was in Hell for millions of years. Surface time. How d'you think that translates to Hell time?"

"You barely survived forty years down there, shit-for-brains." Gabriel pointed out. "Try to imagine four hundred. Or four thousand. Four million. Can you picture that? 'Cause I sure as fuck can't."

"Okay! Okay! I get it!" Dean said, raising his hands in surrender and retreating into a corner.

"So, how do we fix it?" Sam asked. Though he would need more time to get used to thinking of Lucifer as an ally rather than an enemy, after hearing his full story, he couldn't help but want to do something for him.

There was silence. The Trickster had no answer.

"Oh, great. So we just wasted an hour of our lives on a sob story that's not gonna do us any good." Bobby said, finishing the last of his beer in one swig.

"If you have any ideas, old man, I'd love to hear 'em." Gabriel snapped back. There was silence after this retort, as they all tried to think of something, anything that could help at all. They were all drawing up blanks. Until Dean spoke up from his corner.

"Well couldn't you do some angel mojo on his head? Put up a wall or something? Isn't that what your dad did you all of you?"

Gabriel considered it.

"Actually...that just might work." He turned to Lucifer, who had remained, tense and shaking, in his chair throughout the whole conversation. The younger archangel kneeled over him, reaching out two fingers, which he placed on the Morningstar's forehead.

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel dove headfirst into the hectic and torn apart mind of the Devil himself.

* * *

><p><em>The former Trickster opened his eyes. He looked around him. This was just a visual representation that his own mind had conjured up to make sense of being in someone else's head, but he found it amusing that he was still in his vessel. His surroundings were a swirling mass of colors and shapes that kept changing. He had had enough experience with this sort of thing to know that which direction he went and how far he went in that direction would determine what he would find. What memories, what thoughts. And though he was a little out of practice, he also knew how to hone in on one specific thing in order to find it. Right now there was a faint pull slightly to the right, so he turned and began walking. <em>

_He watched some of his surroundings solidify as he walked, showing a memory from early in Lucifer's life. He passed it quickly, but he caught the feel of joy radiating from it, and saw a glimpse of Michael through his brother's eyes. His heart felt heavy as the memory disappeared into the haze again, and he continued, feeling the pull get stronger._

_He did his best to ignore the other memories he passed as he walked to his intended destination, but he couldn't help but catch glimpses of them. He couldn't decide whether the ones from Lucifer's childhood, where he was more innocent and carefree than Gabriel had ever seen him before, or the ones from his time in the Cage were worse. The guilt was enormous for both, and he found himself almost running, desperate to get out as fast as possible._

_The memories and thoughts around him became more and more hectic and confusing as he came closer and closer to where he was trying to go, tinted with the unmistakable tang of insanity. Gabriel flinched as he passed them. They were _all _going to need serious therapy after this was over..._

_Finally he found it, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The relief didn't last long when he saw what it was that he was looking for. _

_It was Lucifer, curled into a ball and shaking with sobs as screams echoed around him, almost but not quite drowning out the person standing over him, shouting accusations at him. After a moment, Gabriel registered that the person yelling, the person hurling insults at the prone figure, was Lucifer himself._

"_You are wrong, Lucifer. You are a vile, putrid thing." he was saying, in a tone that made Gabriel shudder involuntarily. "You've hurt so many people. You don't deserve your sanity. You deserved Hell. You should go back. Go back and take your punishment forever."_

_Whenever the accusing Lucifer paused, distant echoes of dying people picked up. The Lucifer on the floor shook harder, shaking his head but unable to say anything. _

_Gabriel watched, horrifyingly fascinated, before he reminded himself why he was here. He had to help his brother._

"_Lucifer!" he called, and the accusing one looked up, glaring at the interruption. The screams died down just a little. The one curled into a ball slowly uncurled a bit, turning around as well and looking at the new arrival with a mixture of fear and hope in his eyes. Gabriel walked closer. _

"_What are you doing here?" the one on the floor asked in a low, cracked voice._

"_He's here to bring you pain. He still thinks you betrayed him and your brothers and he wants you to suffer for it." The standing Lucifer said. Gabriel realized that he must not be able to talk to Gabriel directly. He was just an influence over the real Lucifer._

"_No I'm not. I'm here to help you. I remember. I remember everything now and I'm sorry. But you can't listen to this dickwad." He said, gesturing to the standing Lucifer, who snarled at him, but didn't say anything._

"_But it's all my fault..." the one on the floor murmured, looking ready to curl back up again. Gabriel kneeled down beside him as he reached him._

"_No, it's not. It's mine. It's Michael's. It's Raphael's. It's God's. But it is _not. Your. Fault._"_

"_But..."_

"_Lucifer. Listen to me. I'll have plenty of time to win this argument later. But right now we need you. We can't do this without you. Please just believe me. Just once. Just until this is all over. You are not a bad person, and it's not your fault."_

_Lucifer didn't answer for a long while, looking uncertainly into Gabriel's sincere eyes. Finally the smallest of smiles formed on his lips, and he nodded. The other Lucifer looked outraged, and about to scream something at them both, but when he tried, his voice sounded like it was far, far away. They couldn't hear what he was saying, even as he shouted himself hoarse._

_It was a start. He wasn't gone yet, but at least he wouldn't be bothering Lucifer for a while. They could deal with this when they weren't in serious shit. _

"_Alright." Lucifer said, standing up with Gabriel. "Now get the hell outta my head. We've got a dick to kill."_

"_You sure you're good?"_

"_No. But what other choice do I have?"_

_It was a valid point so Gabriel withdrew, making a vow to finish that other Lucifer off once and for all as soon as this was all over._

* * *

><p>When Gabriel opened his eyes, all three hunters were staring at him, looking as uncertain and tense as he had left them.<p>

"Well?" Bobby prompted.

"We're good." The Messenger replied as Lucifer's eyes opened as well. The Winchester's watched the archangel's movements with slight apprehension as he slowly stood, stretching.

"Oh come on Sam, it's not like the whole mental breakdown thing is new to you." He said offhandedly, raising an eyebrow at the younger Winchester, who snorted and looked away, relaxing just a little bit. Dean didn't stop staring at the Morningstar for a few more seconds. Then he turned to Bobby.

"You got any more beer?" he asked, and Bobby rolled his eyes.

"In the fridge. Idjit."

Gabriel would have smiled at the exchange, enjoying Dean being told off, but he was suddenly stiff, eyes wide. He looked at Lucifer, who was also frozen in place, staring at him. They had both felt it, both recognized the presence. There was only one thing this could mean.

"Son of a bitch..." Gabriel muttered.

"What is it?" Sam, who seemed to be the only one there who had noticed the tense archangels.

"Outside." Lucifer answered.

"What?"

"Michael and Raphael are here."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I am very proud of this chapter. I tried to make them as in-character as possible, but I may have strayed a bit. Oh well. Either way, here's chapter 6. Sorry for the delay, we've had some school shit to do, which sucks, but whatever. Meh. Hope you like. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but that's just what we do ;) **


	7. Chapter 7

The Man Who Knew Too Little

ch 7: Jokers

* * *

><p>Raphael and Michael faced the occupants of the Singer household with stony expressions. The seven stood at an impasse, neither side willing to be the one who started the battle, neither willing to back down. Raphael lost her patience first, lunging at Lucifer with her archangel blade drawn. Lucifer dodged to the side, pulling his own blade from Almighty Bastard-knows-where as he did so. His brother (sister now? The Morningstar wasn't quite sure) recovered quickly, launching into a flurry of strikes that the still-weakened fallen angel could barely counter. The blue-eyed angel moved backwards, unwilling to fight his younger brother. Eventually, though, Lucifer realized that operating on solely on defense would only end with his death. He didn't really feel like dying so soon after he became sane, so he ducked a particularly nasty slash and pressed forward, forcing Raphael back in the direction they had come from.<p>

* * *

><p>Gabriel thought he saw a flash of annoyance on the oldest archangel's face, but it was quickly covered by a mask of cold indifference. Michael drew his sword calmly, striding slowly in Gabriel's direction.<p>

"Hello Gabriel. I had believed you dead."

"Yeah, well, things change. For example, you used to be a decent guy," Gabriel goaded, not yet drawing his weapon. Michael did not rise to the bait.

"Why are you fighting against us, Gabriel? You left Heaven because you did not wish to take a side, and yet here you are, fighting beside Lucifer."

"I'm fighting you because God's a genocidal bastard," Michael opened his mouth in shock, "You may not remember, but I do."

"Remember what?" Michael's blade had fallen to his side, fight evidently forgotten.

"Why Lucifer really fell. He didn't betray us, Mike, we betrayed him."

"Don't be ridiculous," Michael suddenly lost his composure, his young features twisting in anger, "Lucifer is a _traitor_. _You _are a traitor." Gabriel barely blocked Michael's blade. The Trickster sighed. His older brother wasn't going to listen.

* * *

><p>Raphael felt her eye twitch as Lucifer's blade came down toward her face. The angel was both confused and irritated. Confused because her brother clearly wasn't trying very hard to defeat her, irritated because the older angel had been shooting sarcastic remarks in Raphael's direction ever since he had started fighting back.<p>

"Geez, Raphael, is it just me or are you looking more feminine. Oh wait, you're a girl!" Lucifer grinned fiercely as he aimed a strike toward Raphael's head. Raphael growled and pushed the sword away.

"But seriously, out of all the vessels you could choose, why this one? She's adolescent, acne-infested and…five foot four. That is _not_ a tactical advantage. I thought Michael taught you better than that." She hadn't had a choice. With her recent misfortunes, this was the only member of her bloodline left.

"You have no right to talk about our brother, traitor."

"Oh, is that so? I think I have every right. After all, this _is_ America." The banter reminded her of training, when they were still together. Raphael sighed. There was no time for nostalgia.

"Enough of this banter. Fight me seriously." With that, the angel threw her whole being into combat, leaving no room for thoughts about how nice it would be to have her older brother back.

* * *

><p>Michael fought, both physically and mentally. He didn't understand what was happening. God had said that Lucifer and Gabriel had betrayed him, had sided with the Winchesters to destroy him. But that was not the way the battle appeared to be going. Lucifer was mouthing off in an attempt to distract Raphael, and Gabriel's sword sang with regret.<p>

He had said that _Michael_ was the traitor. That wasn't true, he hadn't betrayed Lucifer. Lucifer had betrayed God, attempted to destroy everything. He _had_ to be stopped. It was the only way. God had said so, and God was good. He had seen it in the Creator's mind….but.

Michael dimly felt a minor cut on his vessel's face as Gabriel's sword slipped past his distracted defenses.

Lucifer's battle with Raphael had drifted close to Michael's brawl with The Trickster, and the Winchester's two angelic allies moved around each other with the same fluidity that they had thousands of years ago. It was as though the two of them had never been separated. Michael felt a sudden ache for that connection with his brothers.

"Gabriel." Gabriel paused, a surprised expression on his face at the emotion in his brother's words. Michael almost winced when he realized how much confusion was in his voice. Even Raphael stopped, unsure what to make of her normally composed elder brother.

"Yeah?" Gabriel asked, his eyes glinting with equal parts suspicion and…was that hope? Michael couldn't be sure.

"You said I betrayed Lucifer. What do you mean?" He knew he should probably ask the Morningstar himself, but he couldn't. He couldn't trust Lucifer. Not yet.

"All of us did. We promised to help him. It wasn't Lucifer's plan to topple God…it was ours. He was just the face of the operation."

"Liar!" Raphael snarled, raising her sword to strike Gabriel down. In an instant, Michael was next to the smaller archangel. He grabbed the enraged woman's hand, preventing the weapon from falling.

"Why would we attempt to destroy God?" Was this why he felt so uneasy around his Father? He didn't want to believe He was capable of that, but He _had _left Michael, his most loyal follower, in the Cage for years. He hadn't attempted to fix Lucifer, either. Michael remembered looking at his little brother, right before he cast him into Hell. The angel looked so confused, so hurt. He clearly had not intended harm. He was just...lost.

Michael bit his lip, then stopped himself, remembering that he should not adopt his vessel's habits. It was beneath him. After much consideration, the protector of Heaven let go of Raphael's hand and sheathed his sword.

"We're going, Raphael."

"What? But…He commanded us to defeat them."

"There are things that we must consider first. I will tell you later." Before Raphael could protest, Michael grabbed her arm and teleported them away.

* * *

><p>"That was…weird." Dean blinked at the place the two archangels had stood just moments before. Lucifer nodded, putting away his sword and heaving a sigh of relief. Gabriel put an arm around his brother's shoulders, and the archangel sagged into the comforting touch.<p>

"It's good though."

"How exactly is being attacked by Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel and Stoicman a good thing?"

"Not the being attacked part. That's really bad. I more meant the 'them leaving without anyone losing something important' part. That part was good. And Michael looked like he was considering our offer, which was very very good," Gabriel paused contemplating, "Also, Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel? That's a good one. I'll have to use it."

"Yeah. I was running low on snarky comments there."

"That's because you've always been shit at insults, Lucifer." Gabriel said. Lucifer pouted, responding with a biting tone.

"No I'm not. How can I be? After all, I've had thousands of years to practice," Gabriel winced, looking guilty, and his expression softened, "oh, stop blaming yourself. God gave you amnesia, I think that gives you an excuse not to save me. Though," the archangel grinned widely, "if it means you'll do things for me, I'm fully willing to accept your guilt."

"You should really stop trying to be such an asshole, you're bad at that too." Lucifer pouted again at that, but Gabriel ignored him.

"Well, if we don't have to fight either of them, that's good enough for me." Sam leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

"Seconded." Dean volunteered.

"You're all crazy" Bobby went inside, presumably to get a beer. Dean followed. Sam sighed and looked at the two angels, offering them a shrug.

* * *

><p>Michael and Raphael appeared in a wooded area. Raphael hardly waited for Michael to remove his hand from her arm before yelling.<p>

"What was that about? They weren't fighting us seriously, we could've destroyed them!"

"No. If we had done that, we most likely would have regretted it."

"What do you mean?"

"I…am not sure God has been entirely honest with us. I believe He may not be as…benevolent as He seems."

"What are you talking about?"

"He allowed two of his sons to languish in misery for years. He would destroy the world. Would force us to fight our _siblings_. I do not want to fight Lucifer anymore. Not if we don't have to. God doesn't care about necessity, though. He just wants bloodshed," Michael noticed Raphael's face was slowly twisting into a terrified expression. He mistook the horror for fear of her own life, "Please, sister. I promise I will keep you safe. Just…help me figure this out, "in his ranting, Michael did not notice the Presence behind him until it was too late.

"Is that really what you think? That's a pity." Michael felt a pair of hands roughly seize his head. Raphael's mouth was open, but she couldn't seem to get words out, like some invisible force was holding her still. Michael felt a swirl of panic twist through his Grace; but then it was gone, ripped out along with all of his other thoughts. He felt God sort through his mind, picking at memories and discarding them at will. Tender moments with Lucifer, friendly camaraderie with Gabriel, questions about how his opinions matched with those of his Father, all of them disappeared. The Cage followed, replaced by years of willing servitude to Him. His ideas, his emotions, disappeared, leaving him with only the deeply comforting feeling of being an extension of the Creator. That's all he was, a tool to be used by the Lord in whatever way He wanted. He was the Sword of Heaven. The Sword of Heaven. Nothing else.

Michael fell to his knees before his Lord and Master, a euphoric smile on his face. He was at peace. Finally. God put a hand on his shoulder, beckoning him to rise. He did so, his mind empty of everything but awe toward his creator. He turned, facing his sister Raphael. The other angel looked horrified, which confused Michael briefly before the emotion was swept away by His Presence. God strode forward, placing a hand on Raphael's forehead. Raphael's look of terror disappeared, but she did not appear to be as pleased to serve the Lord as Michael was. She still had a will. She was not as perfect as Michael. The Sword was not proud about this, because he had no pride. He would serve. He would be his Father's strongest weapon. He would destroy His enemies. The Winchesters. Gabriel. Lucifer.

Michael ignored the feeling of emptiness in his gut that refused to dissolve.

* * *

><p>AN: Can't catch a break, can you Mikey? So….just for reference. The archangel's vessels are: Lucifer-Nick, Michael-Adam, Gabriel-what'shisface (who looks eerily like Emperor Vespasian of Rome…a fact which has horrifying implications) and Raphael has a new vessel, who is the (in my headcanon) child of his previous vessel, niece of the one before that.


	8. Chapter 8

The Man Who Knew Too Little  
>Chapter 8 by: Clubs<p>

After all the archangel fighting crap had happened, Dean decided it would be a good time to slip away from everyone else. Gabriel and Lucifer seemed to be at ease for the most part, hopeful and confident that they might just be able to get through to their brothers. Though this would not take away the threat of their dick father, it would make it significantly easier to defeat Him. They weren't going after Michael and Raphael, instead deciding to let them cool off and think. That, and Bobby's house was the one place where they didn't feel completely exposed. Yes, all of the enemies they currently cared about knew that they were there, but they liked to maintain the illusion of security as long as they could so they wouldn't go completely mad (or in Lucifer's case, completely mad _again_).

So, while the former Trickster, Morningstar, and other two hunters were busy doing whatever it was they were doing—Dean didn't really know or care—the older Winchester had excused himself from Bobby's living room to go upstairs, beer in hand. He would have gone to the Panic Room, but, considering the last occupant of that area, he preferred not to. Just because he had to work with the guy didn't mean he had to like him, and. iIt didn't help that he had only recently gotten used to the idea that the archangel was to be thought of as an ally instead of an enemy.

He sat on the guest bed upstairs, ignoring the groan of protest the frame made to the addition of weight.

With all the worrying and planning and considering they had done about God and Michael and Raphael, the fact that Cas was the one being possessed by God had almost been completely overlooked by the others. Not Dean, though. He may have been focused on the archangels for a while, but he was still being crushed by the painful reality that it would have been at this point—probably sooner, actually—that he would have called Cas. Even knowing that there was probably nothing that the angel could do, Castiel was one of the only constant, reliable people in his life, and he really was just fond of his company. He may get frustrated sometimes, but he was willing to admit that that was most likely just because he was a general asshole about a lot of things.

Like getting them into this whole mess.

Okay, so it wasn't _entirely _his fault, he hadn't been the one to open purgatory and get his ass possessed by God, but if he hadn't been such of an asshole to Cas all the time, maybe he would have been able to help him before it was too late. Because that's what it was now. Too late. Dean fucking Winchester was _too fucking late_.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. He wasn't going to cry. Seriously. He wasn't _that _much of a girl. He wasn't dancing a jig or anything, but he wasn't just gonna break down.

"Damn it..." he whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut against the world. After a stretch of silence, he stood suddenly. The bed creaked in relief.

"Damn it, Cas!" he said, voice raising from a cracked whisper to an exclamation, loud but not a shout. Yet. His breathing was rough, chest heaving with stress and pent-up aggression. As was usual for him. Unfortunately, he selected to deal with his aggression by slamming his clenched fist into the nearest wall.

He let out a shout of pain, holding his hand and swearing.

"OW, FUCK!" not his best idea. He didn't hear anyone approach until someone spoke from the doorway.

"What the hell you doin' up here, idgit?"

Three guesses who that was.

Dean spun around to see Bobby standing there, looking at him with concern and irritation.

"Boy, I leave you alone for two minutes and you try to break my house. No wonder you two keep dyin'. Idjits, the both of ya." The older hunter said, shaking his head.

"Sorry Bobby." Dean muttered, still shaking out his throbbing hand. "I guess I'll just go downstairs again..." He attempted to slip past Bobby through the doorway, but the bearded man rolled his eyes and stopped him.

"For God's sake, do I have to be the heart and soul for _everyone_ and their emotional problems? Even the damn archangels of heaven can't get their words out straight."

Dean didn't respond, making Bobby sigh.

"Look. I don't want to be the feelings vent any more than you want me to be. But if it means you'll stop trying to destroy the not-at-all-safe safehouse we have, then I don't really have a choice."

"Bobby, listen..." Dean started, but was cut off.

"No Dean, _you_ listen. You don't think I know what this is about. But I don't think _you_ know what this is about. I know you miss him. Don't even try to deny it; I see it in your face. And so does Sam. Hell, the only reason the holy dynamic duo hasn't called you out on it is because they're justonly slightly more messed up than you are. So if you just suck it up and admit that even the great Dean Winchester feels feelings sometimes, this will all go a lot faster."

Dean didn't say anything. To be honest he was speechless. Bobby just continued.

"I'm not gonna get all touchy-feely, but for the sake of your mind and my house, I think you've got some soul-searching to do about what you really feel. Preferably not as violent as it usually is for you. We can't afford another one on our team who's liable to go apeshit any second."

Dean opened his mouth, but once again Bobby cut him off.

"Don't even say it. Don't even say 'I'm fine.' Because you ain't, boy. You ain't."

There was a long silence before the old hunter turned to leave.

"I'm going back down. Don't come back until you can be of some use." As he left, Dean could have sworn he heard the manhim mutter "idjit" before disappearing down the stairs. He was left there, standing awkwardly, hand dangling pitifully from his wrist, and mouth slightly open from the speech he had just received.

* * *

><p><em>Damn it, Cas!<em>

Castiel, or rather his consciousness, fluttered into awareness at the sound of Dean's voice. Actually, it wasn't really his voice. It was the sound of his soul, calling out in what seemed to be an unconscious prayer toward the angel.

_Dean..._ He tried to answer. He was weak. So weak and he couldn't see or feel or hear anything beyond Dean. _Dean..._

As he became more aware, the angel felt a cold, steely, unbelievably powerful force near him. But it wasn't just near him. It was everywhere around him. He was surrounded by it, drowning in the force, in the aura.

_How sweet._ Castiel felt rather than heard the words, in the language he was born in. It was coming from the aura, all around him and echoing off of the nothing. _Your pet is crying for you._

_Dean. _It was all he could manage.

_My poor corrupted child. You poor wisp of Grace. This is what he has done to you._ Castiel recognized the force now, though he had no idea how. He had never been spoken directly to by God before.

_Father?_

_I am so sorry that it had to come to this._

Even in his dreary, half-conscious state, Castiel couldn't stop the tingle of displeasure in reaction to the honey smooth tone of God's words, a. All too much like the low, cold sound of the villains in human movies and TV shows. The ones with slick-backed hair and a perpetual smirk of satisfaction on their faces. Every instinct he had in him was telling him that this being was wrong. Dangerous. Not to be trusted.

_It's going to take some effort to break you, I can see that already. But don't fret, my child. I will make you pure and whole again._

_What do you mean? _Castiel asked. He was feeling a sense of panic well up in him.

_You have been tricked, contaminated by human thoughts and feelings and ideals. You have been corrupted by the Winchesters. I had hoped that bringing you back as many times as I did, by saving your precious so-called "friends", that you would see the light, that you would make the right decision and serve me once again. Unfortunately I put my faith in the wrong angel._

_What... _Castiel didn't know what to say. "See the light"? "Serve me once again"? What...what was He saying?

_I like you, Castiel. I always have. Ever since I created you. You're different from the other angels. Different from the others who have fallen. You never lose faith. Even when you are weakened, even when you supposedly turn your back on me, you are simply confused. You don't _know_ what to think. You get angry. But you never, ever lose your faith. So I want to help you._

_How? Where am I?_

_You are still in your vessel. I took the liberty of removing all traces of human soul from it. This body, when you choose to use it, it your own._

_Why can't I see anything? Why can't I move?_

_Because I am in your vessel as well._

Castiel didn't respond to that. His head was spinning.

_Castiel, why did you stop the Apocalypse?_

_...what?_

_Why did you ally yourself with the Winchesters against the Will of Heaven and stop the Apocalypse?_

_I...It seemed to be the right thing to do._

_Why?_

_People were dying. Humans were dying. Where were _you, _Father? Where were _you_ when your world was dying?_

_Castiel, what if they were _meant_ to die?_

This was met with a long silence. _Meant_ to die? What was that supposed to mean? Apparently sensing Castiel's uneasiness and confusion, God continued.

_My child, the Apocalypse was just like any other show of Divine Wrath. It had to happen. You cannot stop the Will of God. There would be no point to having a God if He was not all-powerful._

_But Father..._

_You know just as well as I do how far my power stretches._

_But Father, why? Why must it come to pass? You created these people, the people who are my friends. What is the point to destroy them?_

_I am not destroying them. Castiel, this is why I must help you. This is human thinking, human logic, human emotion and attachment._

_They are my friends._

_They are my enemies. And the enemies to all who stand with me. I am so sorry this had to happen Castiel. I truly am. Once I have rid the earth of them, you will be able to see why this must happen._

The panic suddenly rose up like a wave in Castiel. Rid the earth of them. His friends. Sam, Bobby, Dean. _Dean._

_No._

_No?_

_No, Father. You can't. You can't kill my friends. You can't kill Dean. No._ Just like that, God's tone was icy and foreboding, promising death and destruction.

_I am God. I am the creator of all. I can do anything I please. _You_ are a fallen angel who must learn his place._

The power behind the words ricocheted through Cas like thunder.

_Why are you possessing my body?_

_So you cannot get in my way again. You will learn eventually, Castiel. Or I will have to bring my Wrath down upon you as well._

Cas wanted to fight back, but there was literally nothing he could do. Not a damn thing. He didn't even know where his body was, how to find it, let alone regain control over it. When he remained silent, God spoke again, quietly.

_Good. And if you're a good little angel and don't try to fight me, I might even let you watch when I slaughter the man you love..._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I REALLY hate God right now for this.**

**So basically, by thinking about Cas and wishing that he was there with them, Dean inadvertently was praying for him. Which Cas heard. And so did God. The only reason God didn't go is because he already knew that Dean was there with all the others and he had no reason to go and confront him. Just to clarify, all Cas really remembers is opening the door to Purgatory, and then that's it. So he wakes up and can't see or feel or hear anything (except Dean's prayer), and has no idea what has been going on. I'm only saying this because I'm not sure that I was entirely clear in the actual chapter. Either way, hope you enjoy this gratuitously Destiel chapter which is full of angst and Bobby being everyone's therapist. If you are not a destiel shipper, then you can do 1 of two things here: you can take the destiel references and interpret them as just meaning that Dean and Cas have that whole profound bond thing instead of being in love (which is what I was kinda going for here), or you can stop reading. I would not suggest the second option, as I'm already probably in a lot of trouble with Jokers for even suggesting that**

**(Jokers: Well, I suppose you could stop reading, but there wouldn't be much point. I mean, there won't be any on screen sexytimes. Probably).**

**...Don't count on that, Jokers.**

**But we like readers. And reviewers. So please don't leave.**

**Thanks for reading and everything! Next chapter by Jokers and will have a familiar face reappearing to explain some shit! YAY PLOT DEVELOPMENT!**


	9. Chapter 9

The Man Who Knew Too Little

Ch 9 by Jokers

* * *

><p><em>Lucifer was back in the Cage.<em>

_Logically, he knew that wasn't true, but the thought held little comfort while the fires of Hell burned around him. He heard the human boy (Alan? Andrew? Adam? Yes, Adam was his name) screaming, and he wondered why. Michael was too righteous to torture the human, and Lucifer wasn't doing anything, so there was really no reason for him to be in pain._

_Lucifer looked around, but he couldn't seem to find either his older brother or the human. All he could see was the cage and the flames that were steadily climbing up toward it. The boy's screams grew louder, causing Lucifer to clap his fingers over his ears. The guilt which had been plaguing him for the past few days melded with the noise, turning it into a deep ache which spread through his entire being. The flames grew higher._

_The fire reached the bottom of the cage. Lucifer shut his eyes, but the inferno continued to blaze behind his lids. Gabriel would come get him. He wouldn't be left behind, not like last time. His brother would save him._

_The Morningstar's scream joined Adam's._

* * *

><p>"Alright you emo pansies, I can't stand your angsting anymore. You're going on a hunt." Dean barely caught the thick file Bobby threw at him, wincing when he remembered that his right hand was sprained and catching something with it was a bad idea. He flipped it open after a moment of swearing, looking over the documents in it while Sam watched over his shoulder.<p>

"Fifty year old male, died from symptoms that matched black widow poison exactly…only there was no bite…Twenty year old woman starts freaking out about how she was falling while she was on the ground. She had a heart attack twenty seconds later…fourteen year old male starts choking and screams that he's drowning. There's no water anywhere near him…Bobby, do you have any idea what this could be?" Dean narrowed his eyes at the file, trying to think of something that operated like that. He could only think of one thing, and it was standing right next to him, sucking on another one of Lucifer's ridiculous lollipops.

"Well, at first I thought it might be a Trickster. But…you aren't the first Hunters on this case. When they did legwork they weren't able to find anything these people did worth that sort of punishment. And those two were pretty thorough. A week ago though, the two of 'em dropped off the radar. The cops found their bodies yesterday." Bobby frowned, and Dean felt a moment's sympathy for the older Hunter; he had obviously known the two well. Bobby wasn't done talking, however. "They did find something weird, though. The one that died from the spider bite, he was afraid of spiders. The girl was afraid of heights. The kid…"

"Scared of water?"

"Bingo. Now, I tried searching for any monsters that magnified fears, but all I got were cheesy horror blogs and some comic book thing. Which, as it turns out, is about the _only_ monster Marvel _didn't_ nick from mythology. Nothing in my books either."

"So you want me and Sammy to go looking for this thing?"

"No. I want you, Sammy, and our two feathered friends to go looking for this thing. Their moping is even worse than your moping. Now get, I have more research to do." Lucifer opened his mouth to argue, but Gabriel stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

"Where do we go?" The Messenger asked

"A town called Weston, in Illinois." Before he finished speaking, the two angels were gone. Dean groaned.

"Well, we'll be taking the longer route. Call you when we get there, Bobby." Bobby grunted in reply, already on his way back to the library. The Winchesters left the Singer household and got into the recently recovered and repaired Impala, setting off toward the East.

* * *

><p>After the most uneventful car ride in all the Winchesters' time as Hunters, Sam and Dean reached Weston. It was a tiny, unremarkable town, the likes of which many a feel-good boy-meets-girl chick flick had probably been set in. Dressed in their black "FBI agent" suits, the two brothers exited the car, simultaneously shutting the doors.<p>

It didn't take them two seconds to find Gabriel. The archangel was in front of them as soon as they stepped out of the car, a worried expression on his face. Dean frowned.

"Dude, what the hell? You can't just appear like that! It's kind of hard to keep a low profile when you're doing your Houdini thing." Gabriel ignored him, words rushing out of his mouth.

"Lucifer's gone."

"What do you mean? That he flaked on us? Doesn't surprise me, little bastard was probably looking for the first opportunity to cause trouble."

"Dean!" Sam scolded, putting on one of his favorite bitch-faces. This one, which he used a lot, usually meant "Dean, you're being an insensitive jerk again". The elder brother rolled his eyes, but Sam continued. "Clearly that's not what happened here. Gabriel doesn't look like he's worried _about_ Lucifer, he's worried _for _him. And besides, what would Lucifer gain by sneaking off other than, you know, a lack of allies whenever God finally decides to track him down?" Dean still didn't look entirely convinced. Sam sighed. "Look, I might be a little angry at the guy, but seriously? That's just ridiculous." Dean mumbled something incoherent, the last words of which may or may not have been sorry. Sam, not completely satisfied with Dean's remorse but unwilling to waste any time, turned his attention back to Gabriel, "What happened?"

"Lucifer and I decided to snoop around while we waited for you two to get here, so we visited the first victim's home. There wasn't anything interesting there; the guy was so boring I didn't know how he even existed. But there was a noise coming from the cellar, and Luce went to investigate. I…I heard a scream, and when I went down to see what was wrong, he was just _gone_." Dean swore.

"So whatever's doing this has an archangel now? Fuck all." Sam's brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"Let's go back to that house and see what we can find."

* * *

><p>"This is the least helpful house I have <em>ever<em> been in. I mean, normally there's occult signs, or dead hookers, or...or _something_. This guy might just be as nice a dude as they make him out to be." Dean flipped through the envelopes on the man's desk. Bills, bills, bills, a letter from one of those programs that sponsors starving children in Africa, bills…all boring as fuck.

"There's nothing helpful up here. Let's go down to the cellar." Sam suggested, pulling a flashlight out of his pocket. Dean nodded and followed him, Gabriel close behind.

The cellar was dark and nearly as boring as the rest of the house. There were a few shelves filled with cans, one with wine bottles, and a few dusty boxes shoved into a corner, but nothing truly remarkable. Dean pulled out his own flashlight and looked around one part of the cellar while Sam examined the other. Gabriel made his way to a corner and began examining it intently. Dean made his way over to the angel.

"What is it?"

"Something took him." Dean could pull a world's worth of meaning from those words: "I'm going to find him", "I'm going to save him", "I'm going to rip whoever or whatever did this into little tiny pieces." He, being Dean Winchester and therefore hardly possessing a shred of empathy, would have snorted, but he had to admit he had used that tone before. He could relate to the hidden messages within it. The hunter examined the wall. There was a set of fingernail marks dragging down it, fresh and deep.

"I can sense his Grace on the wall. It's everywhere. He came to this spot, and then he disappeared. But he didn't leave on his own. Something took him." Hearing the worry in Gabriel's voice, Dean suddenly felt the need to reassure him.

"We'll find him."

"I hope so."

"Hey Sam, we found where Lucifer disappeared," he called behind him to his brother. There was silence. "Sam?" Dean looked up, and immediately felt a coil of panic settle into his stomach.

Sam was gone.

* * *

><p>Sam shined his flashlight around the cellar. Something felt wrong about this, but he couldn't identify what.<p>

He hadn't found anything that could tell him what had happened to Lucifer, which was troubling. Usually when someone disappeared without a trace, it was a bad sign. At least he hadn't found any wing marks. Yet.

Sam turned to tell Dean he hadn't found anything when his eye caught a scrap of cloth caught in a stack of boxes. It probably had little to nothing to do with Lucifer, but at least it was something. Sam crouched down to retrieve it.

A pair of hands grabbed him, pulling him into the shadows between two shelves. Sam tried to cry out, but one of the hands clapped over his mouth. He thrashed, but he seemed to be restrained by one of the few people stronger than him and he couldn't break free. The Hunter felt a needle pierce his neck, and the dark cellar somehow got even darker.

* * *

><p>"Fuck."<p>

"Now's not the time for that, Dean-o." Gabriel attempted to joke, but there was no humor in his voice. Dean growled at the nickname, but didn't bother arguing with it beyond that.

"We're calling Bobby."

"He won't know what to do."

"Yeah, well, do you have a better idea?" Dean didn't wait for a reply, pulling out his phone and dialing the familiar number.

* * *

><p>"What is it Dean? You figured out what it is yet?" Bobby took a sip of his beer as he waited for Dean's reply.<p>

"No. Bobby, Lucifer and Sam are missing. Whatever this is took them." Bobby frowned.

"You sure this isn't just the Morningstar being a dick?"

"No, Bobby. I don't think Lucifer is behind this. You need to step up the pace on that research."

"Dean, I-"

"Bobby, I don't want to find my brother's body at the end of this."

"I will, Dean. But-" Bobby didn't get to finish his sentence, as the sound of something heavy hitting the wood floor of the nearby kitchen distracted him.

"What is it Bobby?"

"I think someone's here. I'll call you back." Bobby hung up, reaching for a shotgun which he had left leaning against the couch. Cautiously, he entered the kitchen.

What he saw was not what he expected. Crowley was lying against the refrigerator, apparently unconscious. Bobby approached him slowly, cocking the shotgun. At the noise, Crowley stirred and opened his eyes.

"Hello, mate."

"I don't think you have a right to be calling me that anymore, Mr. King of Hell." Crowley looked confused. Bobby almost bought it.

"King of Hell? Why would I want to be King of Hell? That's a horrible job!" Bobby was skeptical.

"I don't know, maybe its cuz you're an idjit."

"I am truly wounded, Robert. I thought we got along well."

"You sort of ruined that by breaking our deal."

"Breaking our deal? I didn't break our deal-"

"No, you just wrote a loophole into it." Bobby interrupted.

"Oh come on now, have a heart. We _just _sealed Lucifer, I haven't had _time_ to give you back your soul. I can't do things instantaneously." Crowley attempted to sit up without the assistance of the fridge and failed, falling back against it with a groan. Bobby's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"_Just_ sealed Lucifer? Try again buddy, it's been over a year. And I know you weren't going to keep the deal. You _told _me you weren't going to keep it. I had to threaten you with burning your bones to get you to give it back." Crowley frowned.

"You're just pulling my leg, aren't you? I would never do that," At Bobby's stony expression, Crowley began to look panicked, "What's going on here?"

"I'd like to know that too."

"Look, whatever you think I did, it wasn't me, I-" Crowley stopped abruptly, eyes widening in shock before he doubled over, clutching his head and screaming.

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked. Not that he cared or anything, but it was rather curious.

"God."

"What?"

"God is what's wrong. Bastard."

"He screw with you too?" Bobby's grip on the shotgun loosened slightly, but he didn't lower it.

"The last thing I remember is you sealing Lucifer. Then…"

* * *

><p>Crowley was not in Hell anymore. Of that much he was certain. There was no part of Hell that was quite so…<em>bright<em> as this, this expanse of blinding light that spread in every direction as far as he could see. He tried to close his eyes, to shut out the light that was burning into his brain, but it was failing. It was as though he had no control of his movements anymore.

"Hello Fergus McLeod." A deep voice filled the air, causing Crowley's chest to vibrate like someone had turned the base up far too much on a bad techno song. Crowley smirked.

"Sorry, Love, but I don't go by that name anymore." The voice chuckled.

"Very well then, Crowley. But it won't be that way when I'm finished with you."

"Who are you?" The chuckle morphed into a full on cackle. Suddenly, he was nothing but pain, every inch of his body set ablaze by the same light that surrounded him. Black spots began to appear in his vision, and Crowley found that he could think of nothing but how nice it would be when he lost consciousness.

"You should be honored that I'm going to tell you. The humans won't know for a very long time. They'll think I'm you, but we'll both know better, won't we? Hehe, I've always wondered what happens when you possess a demon."

"Who are you?" Crowley repeated, almost against his will. His voice wasn't as enraged as he'd like, instead coming out drowsy and almost euphoric, like a junky who had just gotten his fix. He wanted to feel angry about that, but he couldn't: despite the agony coursing through his veins, his rage was being quickly replaced by a sleepy bliss. The only part of him that remained unaffected was the part that panicked at what was happening.

"I'm God." That made sense, Crowley thought as the panicked part of him was devoured by the high. The pain was still there, but Crowley realized what it was. God's power was filling him up, driving out all the impurities of his evil, evil soul. God was going to make him better, was going to use him for something holy. Crowley remembered distantly that he shouldn't want this, but he didn't care. What he wanted was irrelevant.

A lazy grin spread across Crowley's face, and then everything went black.

* * *

><p>"So he gave you Divine Weed?"<p>

"Screw off, Singer." Crowley scowled.

"And you don't remember any of what happened?"

"After Lucifer? No…How long has it been?"

"About a year. Plus a few months."

"Damn. Would it be too much to ask for a recap?" Bobby considered that for a moment, then dropped the tip of the gun down to the floor. After a second's hesitation, he held out his hand to the demon, who accepted it and was pulled to his feet. He blinked.

"My back hurts." Bobby frowned at him.

"Cry me a river."

"No. You don't understand…" Crowley put a hand on his back, then removed it. His look of surprise slowly morphed into one of panic when he noticed a smear of dark red on his hand. "Demons don't feel extended pain when you stab them. They either ignore it or it turns out it was a demon knife and they either feel it for a few seconds, or they die immediately. There is no such thing as aching or feeling pain _after_ being wounded." Crowley glanced down to the fridge where he had been lying. There was a rather substantial pool of blood on the floor.

"Demons don't…" Crowley, to Bobby's surprise, then proceeded to fall to the floor unconscious.

* * *

><p>"Bobby, don't...fuck. He hung up." Dean tried Sam's number next, and was completely unsurprised when it went straight to voicemail. "He said he'll go as fast as possible, but something distracted him, so 'as fast as possible' could be a while."<p>

"New rule: always stay where we can see each other."

"Sounds fantastic." Dean moved over to where Sam had last been. Once again, there was nothing remarkable about the area. He looked closely at the walls. Nothing. The ground. Nothing. A stack of boxes…there. A scrap of cloth. Dean leaned down and pulled it free from the boxes. It was a thick canvas, colored army green and rolled into a ball. Dean unrolled it carefully. Inside was a half empty glass vial, clear and containing a translucent blue liquid. He turned back around, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Gabriel still behind him. He held up the vial, "I haven't got a clue what this stuff is, but when you find mysterious liquids in a dead person's basement it's never good."

"Unless it's moonshine," Gabriel agreed. Dean snorted and slipped the vial into his pocket, taking care not to break it or spill its contents.

"Let's get out of here."

Dean sat in the Impala, driving to the second crime scene. Gabriel was sitting in the passenger's seat, following the newly created eye-contact rule. They would have just teleported, but then they wouldn't have had all their weapons. You have to have all your weapons when you don't know what you're dealing with.

* * *

><p>It was very warm outside: when they arrived at the scene, Dean thanked the air conditioning in his baby for saving him ten minutes of agony. The two men entered the second victim's apartment. It was, once again, one of the most boring places either of them had ever seen. Dean wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood in the stairwell. After a few seconds, he noticed that the vial was becoming extremely hot. He removed it from his pocket and stared at it. The blue liquid had evaporated, apparently leaving an empty bit of glassware behind. Dean swore. They had lost their only lead.<p>

Then the warm vial became even hotter, suddenly rising to a burning temperature. Dean dropped it, cussing and examining his hand. Fuck him for injuring it twice in one day.

The vial shattered on the ground. Dean stared down at it for a few seconds, then forced himself to take a deep breath and calm him down enough to figure out what the fuck just happened. The air smelled like peanuts, Dean thought.

Then, he abruptly realized that Sam, his little brother Sammy, was gone. He was gone and that was _horrible_. Oh god, he was probably dead in a ditch somewhere and it was all Dean's fault because he was supposed to protect him and Cas was possessed by God and that was his fault too and everything was terrible and wrong and he was such a failure…

* * *

><p>When Dean started having what appeared to be some sort of mental breakdown, Gabriel wasn't quite sure what to do. He wasn't good at dealing with his <em>own<em> emotions, much less someone else's. He tried to get Dean to look at him, and the human didn't resist, just stared at him hopelessly.

"They're dead and it's all my fault. Why? Why couldn't I save them?"

"Who's dead?" No response, only helpless whimpering. "Dean, who's dead?" Dean looked at him like the world was ending. Again.

"Everyone. Always. I kill everyone. Everything is always my fault. I should just do the world a favor and die."

"What do you mean? Dean-" Dean began to shake, all the while continuing to mutter about death and his responsibilities. Then, his eyes slid shut and he fell limp. For a moment Gabriel was worried that he might be dead, but a quick pulse check dispelled that fear. Shit. Fear. Gabriel reached into Dean's pocket and pulled out his phone. Eventually he found the contact list and quickly located Bobby's name.

"Bobby. Whatever this is caught Dean."

* * *

><p>"Shit." That was really all Bobby could say. He had a demon with an unexplained, newly stitched wound on his back that somehow knocked him unconscious and a monster that was messing with his boys. It was not a good day.<p>

"Yeah. He was just fine, and then he started talking about how everyone was dying and it was his fault, and then he fainted. Do you have any leads yet?"

"No. Not yet." Bobby logged into the FBI data base and typed in "fear" and "Weston, Illinois." He scrolled down, then his eyes grew wide, "Fuck."

"What?"

"I think I figured out what this is."

* * *

><p>The first thing Sam noticed upon waking was that his head hurt.<p>

The second thing Sam noticed upon waking was that it was bright.

The third thing Sam noticed upon waking was that Lucifer was in the room with him.

The archangel didn't seem to be doing very well. He had drawn his knees up to his chest and clapped his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut so hard it likely caused him pain. Sam looked down at himself. He wasn't tied up, which surprised him. Sam stood up and moved over to where Lucifer was sitting. He was hesitant to touch him, so instead he spoke to him.

"Hey. Lucifer." The archangel screamed, pressing himself against the wall. He looked at Sam. Well, not really at Sam, more like just in his general direction. He looked…scared…Sam reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong."

"It burns."

"What do you mean, Lucifer, it's freezing in here." Lucifer laughed, eyes shining far too brightly.

"It's always burning in the Cage. Burning _and_ freezing. Contradictions don't matter. Not here." Shit. He thought he was in the Cage. That was not good, Not Good with capital letters.

"Listen, Lucifer. You're not in the Cage."

"I told myself that when I first got back here. But now I see. I'm just coming home. Gabriel isn't going to rescue me. This is where I belong."

"No. Lucifer. You're not in Hell, you're in Illinois. You just have to pull yourself together long enough to get us out of here. Everything is going to be fine." Lucifer laughed, a strangled, terrified sound, and Sam knew that what he said hadn't made a difference.

"Don't bother trying Mr...Plant. Hmm. That's a horrible alias." Sam turned around. Standing in a doorway that Sam hadn't noticed before was a tall, thin man in a white lab coat, "He can't hear you anymore. He's mine, and he will be until he dies. Which won't be long, by the way. His fears seem to be particularly nasty ones." The man grinned, light glinting off his glasses and hiding his eyes.

"What did you do to him?"

"You wouldn't understand. No one ever did. But soon it won't matter if they understand or not. They'll have to listen to what I have to say."

* * *

><p>AN: so, I need to finish this hunt myself, which means I'll be writing the next one too.

Dundundun. What's wrong with Crowley? And what's wrong with the mysterious lab coat man? He obviously has some issues.


	10. Chapter 10

The Man Who Knew Too Little

Ch 10 by Jokers

* * *

><p>"This thing ain't no monster." Gabriel actually took Bobby's revelation rather well, the older Hunter thought. If it were Sam or Dean, there would be a lot of sputtering going on from the other end of the phone line.<p>

Instead, all he got was a calm, measured, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that this isn't anythin' supernatural. It's a guy. A human guy. Who is still alive."

"What do you mean 'a human guy'? Humans can't do things like this to people. Even if we ignore the whole teleportation thing, which humans can't do, that still leaves us with the mystery of how exactly this guy could have…Hold on, Dean's flailing around again," Gabriel apparently removed the phone from his ear. It would certainly make sense, given how muffled his voice became. Bobby sighed and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to redirect the migraine which was rapidly forming, "Okay, I'm back back. Explanation time."

"Alright. Here's what I got. About four years ago there was this guy named Maximilian Curmudgeon-" Gabriel snickered, "Gabriel, this is serious."

"I know but," A snort, "Maximilian Curmudgeon?"

"Okay. I'll give you that one. But anyway. He was this big hotshot scientist, went to some University with some long-ass name that only makes sense if you read its entire history, got a doctorate in Neurology. He had a weird passion though."

"What's that?" Gabriel said it in a way that made Bobby think he probably had a pretty good guess.

"Fear."

"Thought so."

"Anyway, the guy was originally working for some pharmaceutical company. According to the records, he was tryin' to make a medicine that could _suppress_ fears. The company was thinkin' they'd sell it to people with phobias. That wasn't exactly what Curmudgeon…stop laughing Gabriel. Gabriel? Did you put the phone down? It isn't that funny. That's better…anyway, the good Doctor had something a little different planned. He _was_ making a medicine, but it wasn't to get rid of fears. It was to amplify 'em. Eventually the company noticed all the dead bodies piling up around his lab and fired him. The police started an inquiry on him, but he disappeared before it got anywhere…now, I'll give you three guesses as to where his old murder factory was."

"Give me an address." Bobby read off the street name, some random lot in the middle of nowhere. He barely had a chance to finish before the line went dead. No doubt the angel was off to save his big brother.

It looked like Gabriel and the Winchesters had more in common than either of them would ever admit. The idjits.

* * *

><p>The Winchester boy wouldn't go away. It was bad enough that Lucifer was hallucinating, worse that he was starting to lose track of the fact that it <em>was<em> a hallucination, but he didn't think he could deal with Sam Winchester.

It wouldn't really be so bad, having the younger Winchester around, if not for the fact that he was pretending to be so _normal_. Lucifer had long gotten used to Adam's shouts of pain, what was one more voice joining the chorus? Sam wasn't screaming, though. Instead, he was being reasonable, kneeling in front of him and asking what was wrong and looking so sympathetic it made the Morningstar want to scream.

The fires of the Cage had receded again, which was the only reason he wasn't in too much pain to acknowledge Sam. He almost wished the flames would come up again. His newly found guilt was whispering to him, a sort of twisty, stabby pain that made it hard to move.

"This isn't real, Lucifer. Snap out of it. Come on, now isn't the time for this…" For some reason, this made sense, but Lucifer just couldn't think _why._ Every time he got to the edge of understanding just why he couldn't be in the Cage, it slipped away and he was back to sheer panic.

Another man was in the room. Lucifer didn't recognize him. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing (no memories for the ache in his chest to feed off of) or a bad thing (since when had strangers ever done anything _good_ for him?), but then decided it didn't matter. He looked shady.

The flames flared back up, and Lucifer couldn't see anymore.

* * *

><p>Sam almost swore when Lucifer started to shake again. In the hour or so Sam had been locked in the warehouse with the angel and the scientist, Lucifer had continuously shifted in and out of his own little world. One moment he would seem almost (not quite) lucid, and then the next he wouldn't even be looking at Sam, instead begging for forgiveness from the empty air in front of him. The man in the lab coat giggled.<p>

"Only two minutes! The lucid periods are getting shorter so very quickly. I don't think anyone has progressed quite this fast..." There were very few people that Sam thought he could kill in cold blood. The scientist wasn't _quite_ one of them yet, but since he had learned about the extenuating circumstances surrounding the archangels' attempts at mass genocide, there was at least one spot open on the list.

The man had stood in the doorway for around thirty minutes, wearing a smile that would have done the Cheshire Cat proud. Occasionally he would comment on something, managing to make every time he opened his (obscenely large) mouth even more irritating than the last.

The scientist looked like he was about to say something else, but then something distracted him. He turned around, swore, and then turned back, giving Sam a smirk that made the Hunter's skin crawl. The man then pressed a button on what Sam had previously thought was a watch and, very abruptly, disappeared.

Sam only had a minute or so to wonder what had just happened before Gabriel burst through the door, looking like he wanted to tear something into little tiny pieces with his bare hands. In less than a second, though, that anger had been replaced by concern and the archangel was kneeling at his older brother's side.

"Hey Lucy. Wake up, we're going now." Lucifer's answer was less a coherent string of words and more a strangled sob. He leaned back away from the Trickster, whimpering softly. Gabriel sighed, then pulled the struggling Morningstar into a hug.

"Shh, Lucy. Whatever you think is happening right now, it isn't real." Lucifer stiffened for a moment, then he suddenly wrapped his arms in a vice-grip around his brother's waist.

"You came, Gabe. You _came._ I knew you would come, but Michael said you were going to leave me here and I was starting to believe him and I'm so sorry." Lucifer continued mumbling apologies, but a combination of tears and burying his face in Gabriel's shirt muffled the words. Gabriel stood up, pulling his older brother with him, and turned to Sam.

"Let's get out of here, Sammy boy. As much as I want to tear out the throat of the bastard who did this, I'm not at all interested in waiting for him to come back." Gabriel let go of Lucifer with one hand, offering it to Sam who, having no complaints against that, took the offered hand. The three men teleported out of the room.

* * *

><p>"Dean." Sam leaned over his older brother, hoping that he could snap his brother out of his hallucinations by proving that he was not, indeed, dead.<p>

It had taken a short while, but Sam had managed to procure a relatively cheap hotel room, and Gabriel had teleported their respective older brothers onto the beds.

Gabriel had to admit that Lucifer was at least doing better than Dean. That wasn't saying much, but it at least meant that the Morningstar had acknowledged that Gabriel was actually _there_, even if he refused to believe that he wasn't in Hell. Dean didn't even seem to be hearing Sam.

Luckily for all of them, Gabriel was still in possession of both his angel powers and his sanity. The archangel stood in between the two beds and placed a hand on the foreheads of their occupants. He focused.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, both Lucifer and Dean took a simultaneous deep breath, their previously shut eyes shooting open.

"Fuck!" Dean shouted, sitting up. Gabriel smiled.

"Now now, Dean-o, there'll be time for that later." The Hunter made a very rude gesture in Gabriel's direction. The Trickster smirked. It appeared Dean had recovered from his little panic attack rather quickly.

Lucifer seemed to be fairly relieved as well, but in the "yes it's finally over I'm going to start crying now" sort of way instead of the "well that was fun, now let's do something else" sort of way that Dean was. Gabriel cursed himself for not focusing on figuring out how to deal with other people's emotional problems. Instead, he had learned how to, what? Stick a guy's hand in warm water? Put a bucket of tar over the door? Those skills certainly weren't helping at the moment, as they just sort of left him to stand there awkwardly while his older brother had a mental breakdown. He had no idea what to do.

"Come on. Deal with your brother." Sam had snuck up behind him (using his stealth, which he had more of than any giant gorilla like him should) and pushed him in the direction of Lucifer's bed. Gabriel sighed.

"Hey Luce, you alright?" _Of course he isn't alright, you dumbass._

Lucifer looked up at Gabriel and smiled. Then, he reached forward and grabbed Gabriel's arm, pulling him into a hug. This one was far less desperate, less frantic, than the one in the scientist's (Gabriel couldn't refer to him as Curmudgeon, this situation was far too serious) lab.

"It wasn't real. I was so worried, so worried. At first I knew it wasn't real, but then it got too hard. But it wasn't real, and you saved me. Thank you Gabe, thank you so much." Gabriel didn't have anything to say to that, so he just sat on Lucifer's bed and adjusted his positioning so that the older angel's arms weren't awkwardly around his waist.

"So…do you guys know what happened?" Sam asked, after several seconds of silence.

"I'm not sure. There was this vial that I found at the first crime scene, and when I put it in my pocket the liquid in it turned to…I dunno…gas. The vial broke, and I breathed in, and then…for some reason I was just sure that Sammy was dead, and Bobby was dead, everyone was dead and it was my fault. I just couldn't think…" Dean frowned, like he was almost more upset by the fact that someone had messed with his head than over his experience.

"Well that explains why I wasn't affected." Gabriel said.

"And why's that?" Gabriel scoffed at Sam.

"Why on Earth would I breathe? I'm an angel, I don't breath unless I feel like it. And if this _is_ a gas that fucks with your brain, then that would be enough to stop it from affecting me…I think the better question, Luce, is why _you _were breathing." Gabriel couldn't see his brother's face, but he just _knew_ the angel was pouting.

"I do what I want, Gabriel." Gabriel grinned, letting go of his brother.

"So what now? I figure we've only got a couple of options right now. We can chase after this bastard and maybe catch him, we can go back and destroy his stash of fear juice, then leave…or we could just leave. I mean, just leaving a hunt in the middle's not my style, so if anyone proposes that I'll probably veto that, but I figured I should just put that out there." Dean said.

"Oh? And who gave you veto power?" Gabriel asked, grinning.

"It comes with being awesome."

"So what you're saying is you _don't_ have veto power." Dean flipped Gabriel off.

"As much as I'd like to just chase that worm down, we should figure out what exactly he's got up his sleeves first. I'm not really looking forward to a repeat of today." Lucifer said.

"I'm with Lucifer. Going after him right now is risky…and besides, this hunt seems kind of…involved. We're a little of occupied with that whole God business." Sam said.

"So. Burn the lab, then go back to Bobby's and tell him to make someone else deal with this freak? I'm good with that."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, Gabriel and Lucifer carefully held their breaths as Maximilian Curmudgeon's lab went up in flames.<p>

* * *

><p>"Hey Bobby, we're back. We thought that…Holy fuck, is that <em>Crowley<em>?" Dean stopped short as soon as he caught sight of the Crossroads demon who was lying unconscious on the couch, a look of bewilderment on his face.

Bobby sighed. He had tried to call both the Winchesters and tell them about the latest development in the Crowley Department, but neither of them had answered. Instead, he was stuck with the absolutely _wonderful_ task of explaining the demon's presence in person. Sam seemed content to let Bobby explain, but Dean just wouldn't shut up.

"Why is he even here? And why isn't he dead? If there's a reason he isn't dead, why isn't he in a Devil's Trap?"

"Why is he unconscious?" Sam asked. Bobby sighed.

"Slow down, idjits. Let me explain." The Winchesters both looked incredibly hesitant to back off. Lucifer looked surprised at Crowley's presence. Gabriel looked bored.

"Turns out that the Crowley we've known and hated for the past year or so wasn't the real Crowley."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"You know how God possessed Cas while he was in his vessel? Turns out that ain't the first time he's possessed something that was possessing something else." Sam frowned. Dean exploded.

"So you're saying that that Unholy Motherfucker was the one who tricked Cas into opening Purgatory? I'm going to kill that-"

"Yes, Dean. That's exactly what it means. It also means that we've been playing His game for this past year."

"So Crowley's here because…? I mean, I'm guessing he isn't possessed anymore, but I wouldn't want Crowley lying in my house under _any _circumstances. Especially not without something binding him."

"Frankly, I don't think he's going anywhere."

"And what makes you say that?" Lucifer asked.

"Well, he's got this gaping hole in his stomach for one."

"Impossible! Demons aren't affected by stab wounds like that. He should be either fine or dead."

"That's what he was saying too. Before he fainted, that is. And…it's not just that." Bobby paused, gathering his thoughts.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Well. When I was moving him, there was this bottle of Holy Water on the table, and it got knocked over. The stuff spilled all over him. Only…it didn't burn him at all."

"Fuck." Bobby couldn't agree more with Dean.

"I did some other tests on him while he was unconscious. All of them turned up negative. I'm not quite sure how but…I think Crowley might be a human."

* * *

><p>AN: bonus points to anybody that catches the Thor reference.


	11. Chapter 11

The Man Who Knew Too Little

Chapter 11 by Clubs

* * *

><p>"Excuse me, <em>what?<em>" Dean, subtle as ever, was staring at Bobby with an expression that suggested he thought Bobby might be a little wrong in the head.

"He's not wearing a meatsuit anymore." Bobby reiterated, rolling his eyes, "He _is_ a meatsuit."

"Are you sure it isn't just that he left his body behind or something? Maybe he went back to Hell." Sam suggested, shooting an apologetic look at Lucifer, who winced slightly at the mention of Hell.

"I think I know that arrogant prick when I hear 'im."

When the brother's still looked skeptical, the archangels sighed and interjected.

"Not that this isn't already blindingly obvious to everyone else here boys, but you do recall that it is _God_ that we are dealing with, right?" Gabriel said, eyebrows raised.

"Turning a demon into a human isn't really that difficult if you're the Creator of All." Lucifer added. Dean rolled his eyes at the sarcastic duo, and turned to watch the unconscious ex-demon. He bit his lip, mulling over their options in his head.

"Well still, I think we should at least put him in the Panic Room or a Devil's Trap or something. I don't like him just...around."

"Trust me, I don't much enjoy the thought either." Bobby said, moving to Crowley's side. "You gonna help me move 'im?" Dean obliged, picking up and supporting the short but heavy man with the older hunter as they carried him none too gently down the stairs. Sam, feeling awkward just standing there watching them, decided to go into the kitchen to survey the damage. Apparently Bobby hadn't gotten around to mopping up the blood on the floor and some of the appliances yet, so he went ahead and grabbed a rag, setting to work on that.

Meanwhile, the two archangels remained in the living room, not looking at each other. There was some leftover tension left hanging in the air like drying laundry, except without that nice clean scent. Gabriel automatically reached for a lollipop to busy himself, before he realized he didn't have any left. Sighing, he felt a ripple of energy beside him, and looked up to see Lucifer holding out a lollipop to him. He smirked as he took it, because smiling just wasn't his badass style.

"So..." Lucifer began, watching the Trickster as he began to lick lazily at the sucker. "How long were you looking for me?" Gabriel paused before answering.

"A few hours." He stated vaguely, although he wasn't sure why he didn't want to admit to searching for his lost brother for 5 hours straight. Lucifer watched him, unable to read the Messenger's face or tone to tell how he felt about it. Finally after a pregnant pause he nodded, looking out the window instead at nothing in particular.

"It felt like years to me." He said quietly, and Gabriel bit his lip. "I was just curious. Time moves slower in Hellfire. Even if it isn't real."

"Luce..." Gabriel wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. He just wanted it gone. Wanted the lump that was somehow simultaneously occupying his stomach and his throat to just go away and wanted Lucifer to be safe. He wanted the Morningstar to not be in constant fear of going back, of being thrown mercilessly back into the cage for all eternity.

When the younger angel didn't continue, Lucifer turned around to face him again. He looked more like a child than he ever had before in his entire existence. His eyes were sad, and the corners of his mouth were turned down, set in a thin-lipped frown. His eyes just looked lost and confused and hopeless. Lucifer was reminded of when they were younger, safe and naïve up in heaven before the trouble, any of it, had started.

It was harder nowadays to recognize Gabriel as the younger sibling, but back then he had played the part exceedingly well. As much sarcasm and spite that he had in him even in his first hundred years, he had always looked at both Lucifer and Michael (or "Luce" and "Mike" as they were called by him) with such respect and admiration. Raphael had been more condescending, trying to act just as old and mature as they were, even more so in fact. Countless times Gabriel had called her out for it, telling her to just loosen up and take the stick out of her ass, but really it was all just in good fun.

If there had ever been such a thing as an innocent Gabriel, that would have been it. Then their dick of a father had gone and ruined their existence, and everything had slowly crumbled after that.

The look in Gabriel's eyes now, that was just a ghost of their past carefree lives, celestial siblings living among the clouds. As much as he had been through, that sight still tore at Lucifer, and he did something very unlike him. In a rare and almost nonexistent show of affection and comfort (that he had nonetheless engaged in several times that day), Lucifer carefully pulled his little brother into a hug. It was awkward for him, he wasn't used to this anymore. He just knew that he didn't want to lose Gabriel again. Even if they ended up losing, or even worse, if they ended up winning and having to kill their brothers, he didn't want to lose Gabriel again.

The Messenger didn't react at first to the strange but not unwelcome embrace. Mostly he was surprised, but then he leaned into it, accepting the small comfort. He knew what Lucifer was trying to say. And he agreed. Whatever the outcome, he didn't want to leave, he didn't want to lose his big brother again either. He slowly, hesitantly, brought his arms up to return the hug. Part of his mind registered how awkward this would be if the Winchesters or Bobby showed up now, but he pushed that aside. They could go fuck themselves. He wanted a moment with his Lucifer.

* * *

><p>Somewhere, far off in heaven, God watched, head tilted to the side as he listened to the whispers and voices that came to him on the wind. He smirked, turning to look at his two children, both archangels waiting obediently behind their father, awaiting orders.<p>

"Your brothers' bond has reformed. Can you feel it?" he asked them, and Michael nodded, though he gave no other visible reaction. God's smile widened, his borrowed teeth glinting in the eternal light all around them. "Do you wish to join them? Reform your own bonds?" he asked quietly. The archangels raised their slightly bowed heads.

"No, father." They answered in unison, eyes blank.

"We serve only you." Michael droned.

"We love only you." Raphael added. God nodded, satisfied. He turned back around to face away from them again, looking out upon His domain.

"Very good, my children. You shall be rewarded for your loyalty." He murmured. "Soon we shall descend upon the Earth and begin the Reign anew."

Michael twitched a little at His words, but just as quickly was once again solemn and solid. They both nodded.

"Yes, father."

* * *

><p>"What are we going to do with him when he wakes up?" Sam asked no one in particular. The three hunters had eventually returned to Bobby's living room, where the two angels were waiting, Gabriel sitting on a musty old armchair in the corner and Lucifer staring aimlessly out the window, looking bored. Apparently they were so stealthy at feelings that the other three were absolutely none the wiser to their conversation and eventual hug.<p>

Dean shrugged.

"Keep him in there. Even if he is human now, I don't trust him." He said.

"Well yeah, but for how long? Eventually we'll have to let him out." Sam replied, and Dean scoffed, unimpressed by how logical his brother was.

"If he's human he'll be easier to handle." Bobby supplied, "Maybe we could get someone to watch him while we're busy with the Big Guy upstairs."

"Who would be stupid enough to agree to that?" Dean asked skeptically. Bobby snorted.

"I'll give Rufus a call. He's never doin' anything useful." At this response, Dean snorted too, smirking. Then his face turned serious again.

"So what _are _we going to do about the Big Guy upstairs?" he asked. There was a pause.

"Well, we ain't got any way to tell where he is or what he's up to, and same goes for his two brainwashed little ass-kissers." Bobby said. Gabriel and Lucifer threw half-hearted glares in the older hunter's direction, but he ignored them. "Way I see it, there's nothin' much we _can_ do besides preparing for the whole world to come crashing down."

"Well aren't you just a fountain of charm." Gabriel interjected, another lollipop sticking out of his mouth. Bobby rolled his eyes.

"You got a better idea?" Gabriel raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Hey, I just call it like I see it."

Bobby snorted, turning back to the Winchesters.

"What I don't understand is where all the other angels are. Great big Apocalyptic showdown, you'd think they'd be front and center." He said. Lucifer and Gabriel exchanged a glance.

"God killed them all." Lucifer said, and the three hunters stared at him.

"What? Why?" Sam asked, and Lucifer shrugged.

"Because he's a dick. Because he's insane. Because there was nothing better for him to do, I don't know. I don't think His children were too happy about his sudden appearance in someone who used to be one of their own. He probably didn't want to take the risk of rebellion."

"But can't he brainwash angels or something?" Dean asked. Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Do you have any idea how many angels there are? It's not like you three have had the misfortune to meet 'em all. It'd be faster and easier to kill them." He said, his tone nonchalant. In truth he hated the thought. Not because he had particularly liked his less powerful siblings (come on, they all had sticks so far up their asses that the other end was coming out their mouths), but just the principle of them being slaughtered so suddenly all at once was terrifying. He was used to the subtle whispers of communication passing through his head all the time, he was used to being able to sense all the other angels in the back of his mind, and now...now it was only three little blips. Lucifer, Michael, and Raphael. And that thought scared him.

What if they lost? Worse, what if they won? If they achieved their objective and killed the power-hungry deity, what would happen to them? They would be alone, just four of them, maybe only two if they had to kill the others. Completely alone in heaven and on Earth. That thought scared him even more.

* * *

><p>Not long after the conversation about God and the angels, Sam abandoned the others in favor of going to bed. Dean followed not long after, muttering about getting some decent sleep for once, though it was clear that there was little to no chance of that happening. It was more likely that he was going to lay awake for a while, possibly fighting back tears. Even Gabriel didn't have the heart to taunt him on this matter. It really did look like the man was at his wit's end.<p>

Bobby, who had gotten up and gone to the kitchen to grab a beer, had muttered something indistinct about going to check on Crowley downstairs. The two archangels sat in the living room in silence for a few minutes before Lucifer, who had been leaning against a bookshelf, pushed himself up.

"I'm gonna go see what crap is on TV." He said, sounding bored. Gabriel nodded, standing up from where he had been lounging. He was on his way to the doorway that Lucifer had disappeared through, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Hey boy." He turned his head just because of habit. He obviously knew who that was.

"You know, I _am _older than you." He pointed out. Bobby ignored him, taking a drink from the half-full bottle in his hand.

"When're you planning on tellin' him?" he asked, jerking his head in the general direction that Lucifer was in. Gabriel turned around in full now, looking confused.

"Tell him what, perchance?" Bobby rolled his eyes.

"That you're in big, gay, love with him." Gabriel's mouth went dry. He feigned nonchalance, refusing to let the hunter see how much that comment had caught him off guard. He snorted, smirking.

"Man, even _I'm _not that messed up. He's my brother. _My brother_." Bobby rolled his eyes again, taking a few steps forward.

"Only by technical definition. Sure, God created both of you, but the way I hear it, angels still hook up." Gabriel shrugged, even though he knew that that much was true. He knew at this point that he was just avoiding the issue.

"Either way, I'm not _in love_ with Lucifer. Any sort of feelings I have towards any of my brothers are totally platonic." he insisted, and Bobby smirked.

"I just call it like I see it." He replied, and Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He pulled yet another sucker out of his pocket, unwrapping and putting it in his mouth with blinding speed. They both stood in silence, Gabriel trying to think about anything else, and Bobby waiting for him to clear his head. When it became apparent that head-clearing was not going to be happening any time soon, Bobby heaved a sigh, deciding to attack the issue right then and there.

"Look, I hang around Dean enough to know what it looks like." He began, walking closer to look the Trickster in the eye. "Trust me, I know." This was met with silence, so he continued. "All I'm sayin' is that you, unlike him, have what you want right in front of your face. And if there's anything you can learn from lookin' at that poor boy, it's that when you have the opportunity, you should damn well take it. Because Dean didn't. And now it's too late." Still silence. "So stop prancing around like an idjit and go get him."

Gabriel avoided the old hunter's gaze, focusing on the ground.

"Preferably _before_ we both start growin' lady-parts from this conversation." Bobby added. Gabriel looked up, and nodded once, smirking slightly, though his eyes were genuinely grateful, which may have been a first for him.

"Thanks, old man." He said slyly. Bobby didn't even blink.

"Welcome, boy."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT GUYS. SO MUCH LUCIBRIEL. I CAN'T EVEN HANDLE IT. IT'S TOO AMAZING. But seriously, this chapter was really fun to write because of that, and I really am starting to seriously ship these two—which is awkward, because it only makes sense with this exact turn of events. Otherwise it just doesn't work.**

**Anyway, YAY FOR SASSY BOBBY! You cannot handle the sassiness. You cannot. It is not possible. ANYWAY AGAIN: thank you for your support and patience, next chapter will probably focus more on Crowley and WTF they're gonna do about him.**

**Jokers: And...umm...about the fact that Rufus is dead and you can't really leave a dude with a dead guy. I guess we just DOUBLE AU'd there, because we totes forgot he was deceased and by the time that we realized it...we had already planned excellent Crowley and Rufus funtimes. So fuck accuracy I guess.**


	12. Chapter 12

The Man Who Knew Too Little

Ch 12

By Jokers

* * *

><p>Crowley complained the whole ride to Rufus' house. Then, he complained for the ten minutes they stood on the porch, continuously applying pressure to the doorbell and waiting for the old hunter to deign them worthy of his presence. As soon as the door creaked open, however, the whining stopped and the slimy businessman smile was back in place.<p>

"You've got ten seconds to justify me getting out of bed before noon." Dean bit his tongue on the remark that it had been afternoon for a good hour or so and held out a bottle of scotch. Rufus grunted a "come in" and moved to the side.

Dean followed the gruff former Hunter inside the house, then turned around, snickering silently at Crowley's reaction to the place. The former demon nearly tripped on a pile of clothes (Dean would be lying if he said he didn't do the same thing the first time he visited, but that was just long enough ago that watching other people do it was funny) and spent the rest of the short trip to the living room casting disgusted looks at everything in sight.

The man was visibly restraining himself from a violent outburst by the time he was sat down on a ratty old couch, limiting himself staring at his hands as though he could glare them clean of the myriad of germs that inhabited the messy house.

"Alright. Now you have until I finish this bottle. Get talking."

"Do you remember that demon you helped Bobby find? The one with the scotch?"

"Yeah I remember. Went to jail for that."

"Well, he's right there" Dean pointed in Crowley's direction. Rufus didn't seem to know whether to be amused or shocked.

"No way. He stepped through _at least_ three devil's traps." Dean shrugged.

"We don't get it either. He just dropped into Bobby's kitchen and started bleeding on everything."

"You sure that's not his vessel then?" Crowley scoffed.

"Sorry Samuel L. Jackson, no dice. Pretty sure I'd notice if I were that poor sap again," He motioned down at his body, "But now, you're stuck with little old me," The demon sighed dramatically, "And I'm stuck in this _wonderfully_ clean house."

"Oh, stop bitching Crowley." Dean glared at the former king of Hell.

"We're sure." Sam spoke calmly, but with an edge to his voice that Dean knew meant he was trying very hard not to pull a bitch face. Rufus examined Crowley critically.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Well…" Dean trailed off.

"God came back." Sam finished.

"And what does that have to do with him?"

"God's a total asshat. He's restarted the apocalypse."

"Of fuck no. I'm not getting involved in that again."

"We're not asking you to," Sam _was_ pulling a bitch face at this point. It wasn't one Dean had seen before, and he filed it away for later categorization, "It's just that we've got dicks with wings busting through the windows left and right, so it's kind of difficult for us to watch a demon on top of that."

"So you want me to babysit?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Well, that's fine. That's great actually. It means that we can ask for your help with Michael and Raphael. If we'd left Crowley with you, you'd have been busy and we couldn't have bothered you." Dean grinned as Rufus took on an expression generally reserved for those who had just smelled something rather awful.

"You owe me a lot of scotch for this."

"Thanks Rufus!" With that, the Winchesters made a swift exit, leaving behind a cranky hunter and an even crankier former demon.

* * *

><p>"So." Crowley elongated the syllable, fully aware of how annoying he was being. Rufus ignored him.<p>

Again.

They had been following this pattern for about four hours. Well, Crowley had. Rufus seemed determined not to participate. Crowley sighed, a habit he hadn't grown in to until he met the Winchester boys.

"You know, as much as those two knucklehead grew on me, sometimes I wanna punch them in the face." Crowley turned to Rufus and let out a silent huff of laughter.

"I hear you."

"I'm going to get some more scotch." With that horrible stilted segue, Rufus disappeared and left Crowley in silence.

* * *

><p>God gazed down at the former demon sitting alone in Rufus' living room, an amused grin on his face. He wouldn't have guessed turning the King of the Crossroads into a human could be so amusing, but he was enjoying the decision thus far. It gave him something to do while he waited for the Winchesters to realize it was their move. He had been worried he would get bored.<p>

Though really, he didn't know why he was concerned. His two pet archangels were amusing enough to distract him for ages. He glanced back at them, his smile widening. Michael was as impassive as ever. It wasn't all that difficult to keep him that way given that, every time a thought managed to fight its way into his pretty little head, God beat it into submission. He had a private bet with himself about how long it would be before the Protector of Heaven gave up trying to pull his mind back together. Neither of the numbers he guessed were very large.

Though Raphael's face was, objectively, quite blank, next to Michael she was quite expressive. A little bit of wariness had seeped through the cracks in the stone barrier between Raphael's mind and her body, and it made God even more amused, if that was physically possible. At first, the Healer had been just as undoubting and faithful as ever, but time passed quickly in Heaven and, though it had only been a few days in the human world, it had been quite a bit of time for the angels. Raphael had begun to grow confused at her brother's actions, attempting subtly to remind Michael of who he once was. God doubted the second youngest archangel even knew what she was doing.

God could have just taken the doubt from Raphael's mind, made her just as loyal as her older brother, but that wouldn't have been fun. Instead, he let the angel have her little bit of doubt. It was entertainment. And besides, the seeds of doubt would most likely never bear fruit. Raphael was one of his most devoted angels, after all. (If she did, however, it would be a simple matter to erase the past few months from his mind and restart).

* * *

><p>Raphael was feeling rather confused.<p>

She didn't understand the reason for her befuddlement. After all, things were as they always had been. Lucifer was a monster, Gabriel was failing to live up to expectations (though the fact that he had failed to live up to expectations by aligning with said monster instead of just running away like normal _was_ a little surprising), the Winchesters were a nuisance and Michael…

Michael was standing no more than five feet away, as static as the landscape around him. Raphael brushed a thin wisp of Grace across Michael's mind, and all she got in return was silence. Without orders from Father, Michael might as well have been an inanimate object. And that was what really confused Raphael, what really shouldn't have. The oldest angel had always been like that, an extension of God's Will, more perfect than any of them could ever hope to be. So it shouldn't have felt wrong, seeing his blank expression, his unfocused eyes staring out at something Raphael couldn't see. But it did.

An image of the four archangels together flitted before her eyes. Of Michael smiling an easy, natural smile, of initiating conversation without being told to. Of herself feeling both at ease and terrified, the former because her older brother always knew how to lift her spirits. The latter because she thought she might love said brother more than God.

Raphael realized she was shaking and wished she was back in her human form, in the fragile body, which was so much easier to control. She forced himself to still, to calm down, repeating _it's not real, it's not real, it's not real_ over and over again in her head until she believed it. The confusion she felt before intensified, spreading into every fiber of her Grace and settling in for a long stay. Sh didn't understand where that vision had come from. It wasn't a memory, but it felt like one, felt more like one than most of her _real_ memories, and that thought caused the bewilderment to crystallize into ice-cold fear. She knows she should go tell his Father about the problem, that God can easily make her feel better, but the same part of her that couldn't quite believe the vision was false refused to let her move in the right direction. Instead, she glanced at Michael, who was standing just as still as ever, and sighed.

* * *

><p>"Alright, I think I've got something." Bobby slammed a heavy leather tome onto the coffee table. Dean could've sworn he heard the piece of furniture rattle from the weight of the book. He glanced at the title, and then directed a rather skeptical expression at his surrogate father figure.<p>

"The Methods and Processes by Which to Dispose of Powerful Ancient Creatures, and Other Topics, a Manual by Eric Kripke? Jesus Christ, how many thesauruses did this guy burn?"

"I know it sounds tacky, but the things pretty accurate most of the time. Anyway," With some effort, Bobby cracked open the heavy book and leafed through the yellowed pages, "Here we go. 'Yahweh: It is said that the only way to defeat the Almighty One is by piercing him with a weapon coated in the blood of His Son. There are few relics which can boast this achievement, indeed only one that still exists. This weapon is the Holy Lance, which posthumously pierced the side of Jesus of Nazareth. He must already be in a weakened state when the weapon is used, or His Power will repel the attack. God must be stabbed in the right side, his wound mirroring that of the Son. The poison of His own lifeblood will creep into his veins and destroy him.'"

"Well that's fucking optimistic." Dean said, attempting to take a swig of his beer, then frowning when he realized it was empty. A knot of dread settled in his stomach as he mulled over the description in his mind. _Creep into his veins and destroy him_. If the weapon could do that to God, what hope would Cas have?_Cas is probably dead anyway, at least if we do this the Unholy Douchwad can't use his body. He would want that_. Telling himself that wasn't working. so instead he got up and went to the kitchen for another beer.

* * *

><p>AN: So that's a chappie. Shit's probably gonna start going down within a chapter or two, so this fic has a theoretical end in sight. Unless we get distracted. Which is probable.


	13. Chapter 13

Man Who Knew Too Little

ch 13

by Clubs

* * *

><p>It would be inaccurate to say that Maximillion Curmudgeon wasn't used to not getting his way. He was <em>extremely <em>used to not getting his way. That's the thing about "evil" people, or criminals. Mostly the reason they become "evil" is _because_ they are used to not getting their way.

Some people deal with it by sulking or complaining. And some people just punch everyone else in the face. Or in this case, create a highly dangerous chemical which acted as a powerful hallucinogen and worked on the parts of the brain that dealt with fear.

Either way, it was not a new experience for Curmudgeon to taste defeat. That didn't mean he liked it, though.

Currently he was hiding away in a stolen basement (the owners of the house were currently locked in a closet upstairs screaming something about spiders, octopi, and tropical fish), rubbing his palms together in a fashion that seemed standard for scheming mad scientists.

Revenge was something that he rather liked the idea of, but at the same time knew that would only lead to further defeat and humiliation. Besides, if he actively sought out people he had already lost to once, it would just be _asking_ for trouble. Trouble he had no intention of getting into.

So it was with much annoyance that he suddenly found himself confronted by a strange-looking man in a disheveled long coat and tie. If he had paused long enough to truly get a good look at the man, he may have noticed the frankly alarming grin that he was wearing. As it were, he did not, because he was too busy squirting his spray bottle of chemicals at the intruder.

It should be noted that his invented chemical was most effective in its gas form, but for convenience of transportation he was using a plant mister to spray it in its liquid form. It was a terrible hassle, going about the containing of the gas. The mist was slightly less potent, but seemed to still have the desired result.

Whatever form it was in, it didn't seem to matter now, because the man he sprayed it at barely blinked.

"Maximillion Curmudgeon." He said, in a tone that was casual but with a voice that resonated with some deep hidden power.

The scientist's eyes narrowed.

"Your chemicals won't work on me." He nodded toward the slowly dissipating cloud of spray hanging in the air between them. "I have come to you to ask for your assistance in bringing about the End of the World."

Now as much as mad scientists seem to love the End of All Things, this one couldn't help but be more than a little skeptical. Confusing though it was that he, like two of the others he had encountered earlier, could manage to not be affected by the chemical, he was still finding it almost laughable that anyone would "ask for his assistance" in any matter. People just didn't do that. So he huffed out a wheezy, almost non-committal laugh.

"Right. Well, as lovely as that sounds, I'm afraid I must decline your offer."

To his annoyance, the man's smile merely widened, and his unblinking gaze never moved from Curmudgeon's as he stepped closer.

"I don't think you quite understand." He said, "When I said 'ask', I was being very, _very_ polite. The only option you have in the matter is whether or not you are allowed to maintain your..." there was a slight hesitation as he searched for the proper wording, "..._individuality_."

Curmudgeon couldn't really identify the strange sensation that spread through him as the other man spoke to him. It was almost like an idea had been planted into his head. A thought that wasn't his own. A thought that told him that this was _not _a person he wanted to cross.

God, as that is in fact who Maximillion was speaking to, narrowed his eyes, holding back a smirk. Human beings really were embarrassingly weak-minded creatures. He hadn't even intended to influence the thoughts of Curmudgeon (yet). And still, His Will had permeated the delicate membrane of the human's mind. Curious.

The human in question also had narrowed eyes as he weighed his options.

"...what exactly does this entail?" he finally asked. God smiled.

"There are many names for it. The Apocalypse. Armageddon. Call it what you will. It is when Heaven descends with righteous fury upon the armies of Hell, and the World as you know it ceases to be." An unmistakable note of pride and excitement rose in His voice as he spoke, the room seeming to become even darker and colder around them.

Still, Curmudgeon couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly.

"Yes, I am _aware_ of what you meant by 'The End of All Things,'" he said disdainfully. "But where _I_ come in is a bit of a blurred area for me at this point, if you wouldn't mind clarifying."

"All I ask is for you to join my armies of Heaven. Your abilities would be...useful to us."

Before the words had even formed on the human's tongue to ask _why_ he should help them, the powerful creature spoke again.

"In return," his grin widened impossibly, "you will be spared from the horrible fate that will befall the rest of your race."

Unfortunately, Maximillion Curmudgeon was ignorant of one key fact: God lies.

* * *

><p>"Remind me why this is a good idea." Dean interjected into Bobby, Lucifer, Gabriel, and Sam's conversation, planning their Grand Heist to retrieve the Holy Lance. This Grand Heist consisted of Lucifer and Gabriel transporting themselves into the Vatican's "Holy objects storage place" (obviously it wasn't actually called that, but that was what they were calling it for simplicity) and taking it. They would then proceed to teleport back. Ta-da.<p>

This was, however, _Gabriel and Lucifer_, so naturally Dean was more than a little skeptical that this plan would actually work.

"Because they're the ones with angel wings and would be a lot less conspicuous than one of us." Sam answered without even glancing at his brother.

"If you take such offense to the idea, maybe you should just go with 'em, sunshine." Bobby quipped.

"I think one lunatic is _quite _enough, actually." Lucifer drawled, glancing with a wink at Gabriel. The other archangel winced and clutched his chest in mock pain.

"You wound me, brother!" he exclaimed, causing the younger Winchester brother to roll his eyes. "Besides," he continued with a grin, "I prefer the term 'creative maniac.'"

"And you still think this is a good idea?" Dean asked the other two hunters, gesturing at the Messenger and Morningstar, who were currently making faces at each other. Sam sighed, but shrugged.

"What other options do we have, Dean? They can be competent if they _want_ to be."

"But where's the fun in that?" Gabriel practically sang. Bobby turned to Dean.

"Alright, I'm startin' to see your point. Pair a' idjits."

* * *

><p>In the end, Gabriel and Lucifer went together, leaving the slightly wary humans behind as they travelled hundreds of miles in less than the blink of an eye.<p>

It took longer to actually _find_ the Holy Lance once they had gotten there, having to sift through crates of other junk, some of it authentic, some of it complete bull.

"Hey Luce," Gabriel called in a casual conversational tone as they searched, "have you ever thought about what we're gonna do after we actually, y'know, win?"

Lucifer paused. He actually hadn't given it much thought, too focused on the actual act of killing his Father.

"I mean, are we gonna go back to Heaven? Stay here?" Gabriel continued, not oblivious to the other's hesitation.

"I...don't know." Lucifer responded slowly. Gabriel turned in the direction that his brother's voice came from, and was suddenly right next to him. Lucifer didn't start, didn't even seem all that surprised when Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder. He turned, brow furrowed, to see Gabriel's expression. He looked...vulnerable. Not scared, just...worried.

"But we'll figure it out when we have to." Lucifer amended his own uncertainty. _One_ of them had to at least appear strong for the other. Especially in a family divided as they were. Gabriel nodded, but the worry didn't leave his eyes, and so Lucifer sighed. And he motioned for the other archangel to come closer.

He decided not to dwell on the way his (unnecessary but still functional) heart rate increased at the proximity. He pretended not to notice the way Gabriel's breathing (again, not strictly necessary, but they were used to it by now) also picked up speed.

"We'll be okay, Gabe." He soothed, smothering the urge he felt to reach out and touch Gabriel in some way, show some physical reassurance as well as verbal. "Whatever happens to Da...to _God_, whatever happens to Michael or Raphael, we will be okay. You and I. Got it?"

Gabriel didn't meet his gaze as he spoke, and nodded unconvincingly when he finished. This time, Lucifer _did_ reach out, ignoring both voices in his head (one of which was flipping out—_"Since when does the Devil show affection?"_, the other of which was urging him on) as he gently hooked his thumb under Gabe's chin to make him look up at him.

"Got it?" he repeated when Gabriel reluctantly met his eyes. The former Trickster hesitated, gaze flickering down to linger momentarily on Lucifer's lips. It wasn't until then that the Morningstar realized how close their faces were. Literally mere inches apart now. _When had that happened?_

It was then that Gabriel chose to lick his lips—the briefest of motions, lasting less than a second—and then suddenly there was no space between their faces anymore.

If you asked them both later, neither would really be able to tell you (or admit) who initiated the kiss. One second, they were there, and the next, they were _there_. Neither of them had ever imagined them doing this prior to this moment, and yet, when it actually happened, they couldn't imagine why it took them so _long _to finally do it.

It felt as though Lucifer's mouth and chest were on fire. But it wasn't like any kind of fire he had ever felt before (and he knew some things about fires). It was painful only in its intensity, an aching throb of _feeling _pulsing through his heart and head. And the voices were silent. It was just him, just barely aware of his own actions as one of his arms snaked stealthily around Gabriel's waist, pulling their bodies closer together.

The younger archangel wasn't complaining. Quite the opposite, his own hand was planted firmly at the back of Lucifer's head, some small part of his mind marveling at how soft his hair was, especially considering that Lucifer had spent the majority of his time in Hell, where they certainly didn't have showers. The rest of his mind was entirely focused on the meeting of their lips, the kiss that was slowly growing in intensity and passion.

_Passion_. He found himself thinking wildly. _When was the last time I was this passionate about anything? Maybe that red velvet cake I had in Nevada a few years back? No, not even close._

To say Lucifer was surprised when he felt Gabriel's tongue, _his __**tongue**__, for Dad's sake!_ begging for entrance past his lips, would be a regrettable understatement. Despite his surprise, however, he didn't hesitate in the least to grant him that access.

Gabriel let out a high-pitched whine when their tongues clashed together, and attempted to pull closer. As it happened, he did manage that, but not entirely...physically. He and Lucifer were being drawn together by their Graces—damaged as they were—in a connection that they hadn't ever experienced before, in all of their centuries of existence. It was like a burning-freezing feeling, followed by a surge of warmth and then a nearly unbearable feeling of _joy_.

They were forced away from each other, panting at the unexpected experience.

They stared at each other in shock, both at what had just happened and at what they had just done.

Then Gabriel started laughing. And Lucifer started laughing. And they knew it would be okay. It may be slightly nerve-wracking, this huge new step that they had spontaneously taken from sexual tension to full-blown making out, but it wasn't like they hadn't gotten past other nerve-wracking things. Things that were considerably worse than making out, which was decidedly really awesome.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" a cool, female voice rang out, and they both started, turning around with enough speed that a human would probably have gotten whiplash.

A dark-haired woman stood before them, dressed in a blazer and dress pants. Of course, neither of the archangels were fooled.

"What are you doing here?" Lucifer asked his underling, and the demon flashed black eyes briefly.

"Just trying to help out the Boss." She said innocently, with an ugly smirk. "Is it this you're looking for?" she held out a long, smooth handle, which widened to a cone and then tapered off to an undoubtedly sharp point. They figured was the Holy Lance they were indeed looking for.

"Yeah. So if you wouldn't mind..." Gabriel was hesitant, but put on a nonchalant façade for the demon, holding out his hand for the Lance. She grinned at him.

"Sorry, I'm under orders not to let you have it." She said smoothly.

"Whose orders?" Lucifer demanded. She looked to him.

"My Boss." She repeated. "Oh, sorry, you didn't think I meant _you?_ No, I'm working for Daddy dearest."

It wasn't like Gabriel and Lucifer hadn't seen that coming, but it was still not a very nice thing to hear.

"Shit..." Lucifer muttered.

"And, I'm so very sorry to tell you this, boys, but I'm also under orders to kill you." She didn't look sorry at all, in fact the bitch looked practically gleeful at the prospect.

"This is the point where I would usually say 'You and whose army?' but I know by now that the minute I did, fifty million hellspawn would show up." Gabriel commented. She smiled wider. And, maybe not fifty million, but still a very sizable amount of demons did in fact appear out of the shadows around them, some accompanied by large, viciously snarling Hellhounds.

"..._shit..._" Lucifer reiterated.

* * *

><p>"Is it just me, or is this taking way too long?" Sam was the one who broke the slightly awkward silence in Bobby's kitchen as the three of them stood or sat with beers in their hands. Bobby shrugged.<p>

"It's probably gonna be a chore to actually _find_ the thing, even after they've gotten there." He said by way of an answer. It had been little over an hour since the two angels had left, and none of them really knew what to do while they waited. Well, except for Dean. But what Dean had elected to do was not-too-stealthily watch porn on his brother's laptop with some cheap dollar store disposable headphones. Sam had long since given up the losing battle of getting Dean to stop stealing his laptop for this purpose, settling for throwing disapproving or disgusted looks his way instead.

Sam knew Bobby was probably right, but he couldn't help getting fidgety while they waited. If something _did_ go wrong, how would they even know it? Unless they decided to pray for one of them (probably Gabriel, he wasn't sure how Lucifer would respond to prayers considering the long time he had existed as the Devil), they didn't have much hope of getting into contact. And even then, that was assuming they _could_ come when called. Maybe one of the hunters _should_ have gone with them, after all. Or they should have taken a phone. But of course, being archangels, that wouldn't have even occurred to either one of them. To be honest, he hadn't even thought of it himself until just now.

The younger Winchester began pacing the length of the kitchen, biting his lip.

"Hey, Sam, chillax, would 'ya? You're ruining the mood." Dean called to him from the table. Sam barely gave him a glance before rolling his eyes.

"You're the one who was so nervous about this plan at the beginning, Dean." He pointed out. Dean smirked, taking a drink from his beer.

"Exactly. And I reserve the right to rub it in your faces if I'm right." He said, with a wink. Sam sighed.

"Seriously Dean. What if they ran into Michael? Or Raphael? Or Him?"

"Then I will make sure to gloat as much as possible before we are slaughtered like the cattle that we are."

Before Sam could facepalm at Dean's nonchalant façade, Bobby's phone rang out shrilly, making him jump slightly. He exchanged a glance with Bobby before the older hunter went warily to the receiver and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Okay, there's good news and bad news." Gabriel said, completely skipping over a greeting of any kind. Bobby blinked, caught a little off guard.

"Meaning?" he prompted.

"Well, on one hand, we're alive, and we found the Holy Lance, so go team."

"And?"

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line.

"...and on the other hand, we were sorta kinda ambushed by demons sent by God to get the Lance and kill us and we may or may not have had to kill them all and one of them may or may not have gotten away with the Lance while we were killing them all." Gabriel said this all very quickly, but Bobby still got the gist of what he was trying to get across. The Lance was gone. Probably on its way to the Big Man Upstairs.

"Balls..." Bobby muttered. Sam and Dean exchanged a glance behind him. Bobby shook his head at them, eyes downcast. They both visibly wilted. The mission hadn't been as successful as they had hoped.

"Okay. You two get your sorry asses back over here pronto so we can all figure out what in the Holy Hell we're supposed to do now." Bobby instructed. There was a pause from Gabriel's end, and the hunter was immediately wary. There was more.

"Uh, about that...Lucifer may or may not be...unconscious at the moment..." the archangel said slowly. Bobby wondered briefly how bad the damage would be if he threw the phone out the window.

"..._balls_." he repeated instead.

* * *

><p>Ariel Connors was a respectable woman. Her parents, Mark and Gwendolyn Richardson, were both very nice people: a doctor and an ultrasound technician, now both retired with sufficient money in the bank to support themselves. Her husband, Marshall Connors, was an architect with a substantial income from the firm he worked for and the love of her life. She herself worked at the local high school as a teacher of English Literature. She had no children.<p>

There was no reason why God or the Devil should care who she was at all. However at that moment, they did. They did because it just so happened that the demon who was currently in possession of the Holy Lance, the one object of the known world that truly had the potential to kill God (other than Death's scythe, that is), was wearing her skin.

The demon, much like other demons who escaped the torturous confines of Hell and who had taken possession of a human host, had taken to calling itself by Ariel's name, finding humor in the Heavenly implications of it.

At the moment, Ariel was waiting. She was waiting for her new leader, the most unlikely of people considering the fact that she was a hellspawn, to retrieve the Lance from her.

As unusual as it was that any demon would ever elect to follow God, her reasoning was simple. He made a better offer than the other side, which she had been informed consisted of two archangels, an ex-demon, and four humans. No offense to Lucifer, but that didn't exactly sound like a solid winning team. And she would rather be alive to enjoy the Apocalypse than dead because of it.

So here she sat, in a dark farmhouse somewhere in northern Alabama, the irony reek of freshly spilled blood swirling around her, coming from the murdered family on the floor in the next room, throats slit. Even the child.

The wind danced around her, though there were no open windows or doors. It didn't surprise her when a figure appeared suddenly before her, eyes cold and expressionless, lips tight in a serious line.

"Demon." He sneered. Except, it didn't have any bite. It didn't have any anything to it, really. It would have been a sneer if he had been in complete possession of himself, but clearly he was not. It wasn't going to stop Ariel from smirking back at him, just as disgusted by angels as angels were by demons. _She,_ however, had enough class to call him by his actual name.

"Michael." The word almost burnt out her tongue to say. So she simply held out the Lance, which is what he had been sent for. He regarded it for a moment before taking it carefully from her.

"You are to gather your forces. Regroup and await further instructions." He commanded. She hissed with anger.

"_You don't order me around, angel._" She spat, "I did what I was told I had to do. I upheld my end."

"Not yet. God has given me one more task to appoint to you." Michael droned, a passive, watered down impression of disapproval at being questioned and disobeyed.

"Fuck you and your God." Was her response, and she spat at the floor at his feet. If Ariel Connors, the _real_ Ariel Connors, had been aware of herself at that moment, she would have been appalled. As it was, Michael reacted with an impression of being surprised, looking at the spot where she had spit. His eyes looked slowly back up to her. He was completely silent. And then his hand reached out and touched her forehead, and light burst out of her eyes and mouth, and she fell hard to the floor, into the pool of slain humans' blood. He regarded her for a moment more before leaving with the Lance, to present it to his Father.


	14. Chapter 14

The Man Who Knew Too Little

ch 14

by Jokers

**A/N: So in case any of you notice. Yes, Raphael is referred to by female pronouns. I went back and edited all the chapters so that she is ****_always _****referred to by female pronouns. This occurred because we realized that, while two out of three isn't exactly enough vessels to form a distinctive pattern of preference, Raphael seems to possess the ladies more often in this universe.**

* * *

><p>"Ah, Michael, you have returned," the Archangel nodded, kneeling down in front of his Father and presenting him with the Lance. God took it, examining it with detached curiosity, "So this is the weapon that can slay me? I am unimpressed. I have seen holy items with more power intended to clean dishes! Well, it's unimportant now. We have it, so the traitors will have a rather difficult time using it on me," His oily smile grew wider, "it will only be a matter of time before they fall."<p>

"Yes Father." Michael replied dully. He was still learning the proper expressions and tones of voice to match with certain circumstances. It took a substantial amount of time for him to compile references from his memories, but it was also necessary. He could not exact God's wrath if he could not at least feign anger. He did not have to put much effort into false emotions around his Father, though, so he would save that until he had perfected the art. Or perhaps not at all. God seemed rather satisfied with him as he was. Why shouldn't He be? He had created Michael as such, and God never made mistakes.

"Did you have any trouble acquiring this little…trinket?" God asked, absentmindedly twirling the Lance as though it were a baton and not a large and deadly weapon.

"The demon would not cooperate with our efforts. I was forced to kill her." God must have already known this, but Michael had no right, nor any desire, to question Him.

God sighed, "Well, I suppose we'll have to make do without her. We're almost finished anyway. Once I've consolidated all the energy I spread out during Creation, I can do it again. This time I'll make sure they're less obstinate. It was amusing for the first hundred thousand years, but now it's just boring. You may stand, Michael, I have no further need of you." The angel stood wordlessly, leaving God's throne room quickly so as not to needlessly disturb his Father.

He flew to a secluded corner of Heaven. Well, given the small number of occupants in Heaven who could wander within it, most of Heaven was secluded at the moment. This place, however, had always been so. It was wooded and, unlike most of Paradise, dark. This was one of the few places in Heaven which possessed shadows, and so the thick tree cover shaded the ground from the light which eternally illuminated the rest of the realm. As far as Michael was aware, few angels visited the dim forest, either because they preferred the bright Gardens, or because they (like Michael) had no preferences and were simply too busy to make such a trip. Michael did not know why he recently made a habit of going to this place when he had no instructions, but he had several times in the past few days. It did not particularly worry him, not only because he had no concept of the feeling, but because God would not leave him without any necessary knowledge. So the archangel could only assume that it was right for him to gravitate toward these woods, but that it was not of enough importance for God to give him the knowledge of why.

There was a brief itch in the back of his mind, as though something had been trapped there for a very long time and was attempting to burrow its way out. Just as it attracted Michael's attention however, it disappeared, and Michael continued standing amongst the trees, unmoving. After five minutes, twenty-two point five seconds, he heard a far off rustling noise. Michael turned just as Curmudgeon stepped from between two bushes.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Michael the archangel! I haven't seen you in a few days. What exactly do you _do_ when God isn't keeping you busy?" Michael didn't answer the human scientist, whose slightly amused smirk turned sour. He growled at him, grabbing his collar. "Stop _ignoring_ me." Michael could have easily smited him right then and there, but decided that as the man was, for some reason or another, important to his Father, that would be unwise.

"I wait." Michael answered after a few seconds. Curmudgeon set him down, then, staring at him.

"You wait? The great Archangel Michael just _stands around_ whenever he isn't being given orders? That's so…boring! Even the Devil was more interesting than that." Michael tilted his head to the side. He had not been made aware of any interactions between the doctor and the Morningstar. Curmudgeon must have mistaken his actions for confusion, because he continued on, mad smile wide and eyes bright with excitement.

"Oh, it _was_ interesting. He started going mad far faster than any of the others. I wonder what he was afraid of? He didn't say, exactly, just kept mumbling on and on about cages and fire. It was incredibly entertaining, even more so now that I know he isn't human. I would have thought the chemical wouldn't work on him, but-" The scientist cut himself off , his grin somehow becoming even wider than before.

"Oh, oh, oh. I know what would be absolutely wonderful. Do you know if your Master is busy at the moment?" Michael shook his head, "Well, could you take me to him? I have a _fantastic_ idea." It seemed harmless. After all, Curmudgeon couldn't exactly injure God, and was too much of a coward to try even if he had a slight chance of success. Michael placed a hand on the human's shoulder, and the two of them disappeared, leaving the forest as empty as it had been before.

* * *

><p>"Shit." Lucifer said as they were surrounded by demons. He was fairly sure that between the two of them he and Gabe could take them down, but he didn't particularly like fighting absurdly large groups of people no matter the situation. Besides, judging from the smirk on one of the demon's face, things were about to get a lot worse.<p>

The black-eyed creature dropped a match, and a ring of holy fire sprung up around the former Devil. Lucifer looked over at Gabriel but, thankfully, the Trickster was standing outside the circle.

"Good luck getting out of this one." The demon chuckled, just before a silvery knife appeared through his chest. Gabe spat at the corpse, then turned to his Brother.

"Just hold on until I'm done, Lucy."

"That just won't do." The female demon holding the Lance said, an evil glitter in her eye. She moved to the side, revealing a circle drawn in dark red liquid. Lucifer thought that it was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"An angel banishing sigil?" Gabriel asked. Tilting his head and squinting. Lucifer followed suit. Yes, it looked rather similar, but with a few-

"But with a few modifications," She said, "You see, _this_ one links to another one, right inside that circle your big bro is trapped in. I got blood from dear old Michael special for this. Now, I wonder what happens if you boot an angel from a place they can't leave? Let's find out." Before the Messenger could stop her, she pressed her hand on the markings.

A sharp pain tore through Lucifer, like sharp claws sinking into his arms and legs. It tugged, hard, and he felt himself pulled forward. His body tried to move somewhere, anywhere else, but then he felt himself hit a wall, and knew he had reached the edge of the circle. He tried to back up, but the banishing sigil prevented him, so he was forced to stand, pressed against an invisible barrier that sent shocks through his Grace as the banishing sigil tugged at him. Black spots danced around his eyes, growing and consuming him until there was nothing left. Even though his whole body was alive with agony, he felt his limbs begin to relax, his mind growing foggy, and then he fell asleep and nothing hurt anymore.

* * *

><p>"Luce? Hey. Lucy." It was Gabriel's voice that woke Lucifer up, not the raw ache he felt where his body was pressed against a bed, or the conglomeration of amateur bowling ball jugglers that seemed to have taken up residence in his head.<p>

"Ow." He said simply, throwing one arm over his face against the too bright light. He hardly had a moment to regain his bearings before he was tackled, said arm pulled away from his eyes as Gabriel kissed him.

"I was worried," Gabe said, after he had calmed down and snuggled next to Lucifer, "when you collapsed I killed them all. Well, except the one that got away with the Lance. I didn't even notice, I was too busy trying to find out where they kept the holy water sprinklers or whatever."

"So they have the Lance?" Lucifer asked, his unnecessary pulse quickening.

"Oh come on, Lucy, I'm _trying_ to tell you how desperate I was about you almost dying." Gabriel said, melodramatically.

"Gabriel, this is important. If we can't kill God, we're probably all going to die." Gabriel sighed, and the arms around Lucifer's shoulders tightened.

"I know. But can we just have a little while before we jump back into things? If we _do_ die, I don't want to spend my last days worried. And if we don't, well, we won't have had any control of it. The boys are looking for another way to deal with dear old Dad. You're resting..." He paused for a second, expression changing slightly, a seductive grin slipping onto his face, "...I'm exploring New Boyfriend privileges."

"Oh?" Lucifer asked, almost completely forgetting about the Lance and their Father as Gabriel's pupils dilated slightly, "And what are those?"

"Well," Gabriel's grin grew, "I was thinking."

"Yes?"

"You'd never had a vessel before the Apocalypse, and then you seemed kinda…busy. Which means you haven't done certain," the Trickster hummed, "things."

"Things?" the Morningstar scoffed, mocking his brother's word choice. Gabriel smirked back at him, pressing their lips together slowly, passionately.

When he backed off again Lucifer had a little trouble forming coherent words. "...oh. _Those_ things..." Gabriel grinned and kissed him again, then, and whispered in his ear.

"I'm not letting you die a virgin."

* * *

><p>Raphael watched as Curmudgeon spoke to her Father from a well concealed hiding spot. She knew God could find her if He really wanted to, but He seemed to be distracted by His new toys, and by His oldest son.<p>

"That sounds like a splendid idea." He said, staring at Michael with a look of calculating glee that, to be completely honest, disturbed Raphael quite a bit. Which was absurd. She didn't even know what they were talking about, had just been wandering by and had, for some reason, felt an irrational need to listen in. For all she knew, they could be talking about taking a walk in the Gardens.

She shifted a little, once again uncomfortable in her own skin. Recently, God had decided that her vessel was too young, too small, to be, as Lucifer had said during their fight, "a tactical advantage." So he had made it older, changing it from a prepubescent girl to a young woman of around college age. It was more similar in form to her previous vessel, but she had gotten so used to her diminutive height and, well, flat chest, that adjusting back was a challenge.

Raphael was distracted from her vain attempts to sit in a way that did not make her cleavage supremely irritating by Curmudgeon removing a small vial from his pocket.

"Now," the scientist said to Michael, voice slimy and patronizing in a way that made Raphael want to plug her ears to keep the sludge out, "all you have to do is breath this in." He removed the stopper, holding whatever the concoction was under the archangel's nose.

For a moment, nothing happened. Michael had, indeed, inhaled, but it did not seem to affect him, as he continued to stare blankly off into space.

"Hmm, it would appear that the emotions were wiped so completely from his mind that-" Curmudgeon was interrupted when a flailing arm hit him in the face. The scientist stumbled back, grin reforming despite the blood dripping from his nose, "-I stand corrected."

Michael backed away from the scientist, eyes wide with something that, had it been on anyone else's face, Raphael would have called fear. But Michael didn't _feel_ fear. Did he? The way his shoulders heaved up and down, the way his hands shook as he saw his Father, the way he almost curled in on himself where he stood, those were all signs of pure terror. And the way Curmudgeon_'The doctor who deals in fear' _was looking at him, like he were a lab rat that had just run successfully through the maze, definitely indicated that Michael was afraid.

God was smiling almost as widely as Curmudgeon, "congratulations, good doctor. It would appear your little test was successful," He addressed Michael then, as though the angel were delivering a report and not backing away from Him slowly, "Now, Michael. Tell me what you're afraid of."

Michael looked around, not seeming to see either of the people standing in front of him. He glanced about wildly, muttering something softly. Raphael leaned as far forward as she dared, listening in.

"Lucifer? Where are you? No. He isn't here. He's gone. It's my fault, all my fault. He's gone and Gabriel's dead and… Where's Raphael?" The last line was even more panicked than the rest, and Raphael felt her heart clench. Michael turned about, searching until his eyes rested on Raphael's hiding spot. For a moment, Raphael thought she was going to be caught, but her brother just stared at her pleadingly, then turned away and continued on as though she wasn't there.

After a short while, he seemed to give up. He turned back around, his eyes first resting on God, then Curmudgeon, and his posture changed. There was still that bone-deep fear in his Grace, but it was overshadowed by a smothering anger that made Raphael back off and seal her Grace off from him. He flew at the scientist, growling, and drew his sword, running it into Curmudgeon's chest.

"Leave my brothers alone." He said, obviously putting great effort into keeping his voice even, and then looked up at his Father's throne.

God was not in it anymore. Instead, He was next to Michael, His eyes filled with mock concern.

"Oh dear," the divine being said, "It appears that your reeducation is not as complete as I had thought. Don't worry, my son, we can fix that." Michael flinched away, but God was faster, placing a deceivingly gentle hand on his cheek. Raphael slowly, carefully, reached out to her brother and felt his Grace, swirling and, surprisingly, completely sure in its course of action. Then, God's influence began to spread, not calming but tearing away at Michael's very thoughts. As surreptitiously as possible, Raphael pulled a thread of Michael's unclaimed Grace out of him, storing it in a tightly guarded place beside her own. Then, she disappeared, before God could notice her and "correct" her behavior as well.

* * *

><p>Castiel had given up trying to escape on his own quite a while ago. Once that was done, he expected to fade away, consumed by his Father's overpowering Presence. Instead, quite the opposite happened. When he didn't fight, God found other things to occupy himself with, and the Angel of Thursday was given more freedom to do other things. He began testing the bounds of his prison, quickly backing off whenever He turned His attention toward him. After a bit of practice, he found he could extend bits of his Grace beyond his prison.<p>

Mostly, he watched, keeping an eye on Michael and Raphael. He hadn't particularly liked either of them in the past, but God had taunted him with enough memories to know that it wasn't their fault for what they had done or what had happened to them. He hovered over Michael while the other angel stood stoically after God had torn the thoughts from his head, stood over Raphael's shoulder while she struggled to understand why everything felt so wrong, rejoiced when he heard that Gabriel and Lucifer had managed to escape from Him, at least for a time. It still felt...strange to him to think of Lucifer as an ally. But he would have to get past that.

It took longer for him to figure out how to _influence_. He started small: moving a twig here, suggesting the human scientist go left instead of right there. He had planned to keep practicing when Curmudgeon agreed to God's proposal. Castiel knew that what was going to happen to Michael would be terrible, so he felt a pang of guilt when he realized it was also an opportunity. Raphael had been on the fence about their Father for several of Heaven's years by then, and Castiel knew it would take a grievous act of cruelty to push her over to the other side.

So he whispered in her ear that she should listen in on God's secretive meeting with Curmudgeon and Michael, and hoped she could avoid getting caught long enough to see the light.

* * *

><p>Raphael flew as far across Heaven as she could, only stopping when she reached a dark forest. Then, she landed, looking around. She couldn't remember ever visiting this spot, but it felt so familiar.<p>

_Michael laughed, his Grace thrumming against hers as he guided her into the shady woods._

_"Trust me, Raphael. This darkness is a good kind."_

_"Alright, alright," She conceded, "But shouldn't we be doing our jobs?"_

_"I doubt we're about to go to war right this very moment, Raphael. No one's hurt, the armies deserve a rest, and I want you to see this place."_

_She had to admit, the woods were beautiful in their own way. The trees were tall, taller than any on Earth, with trunks as wide as several Humans standing close together and branches that reached toward the light that shone above Heaven. Everything was a mixture of greens and browns, with smatterings of bright color wherever berries grew. She sighed, deciding she might as well enjoy herself._

_"How often do you come here?"_

_"Every day, usually. No one ever comes here, so it's a good place to think. Be alone."_

_"Why did you bring me here if it's your place to be alone?"_

_"Because you're my favorite." Michael leaned into her, and she felt warmer than normal. She kept calm, somehow, and managed to respond normally. At least, she hoped she did._

_"Oh come on. Everyone knows Lucifer's your favorite." Michael smiled at her._

_"Lucifer was my first brother. I love him. But he's not my favorite."_

_"What about Gabriel? You always dote on him."_

_"I dote on him because he's a child. Not because I like him most. The three of you are my favorite brothers, but you're the one that I like best out of them all."_

_Raphael couldn't think of any way to respond to that. Mostly because she couldn't form coherent sentences in her head. Instead she took in the forest and all its beauty, vowing to remember it._

Raphael gasped, falling to her knees. She looked around at the trees and bushes. Yes, this was the forest in the vision, unchanged by the passage of time. She stood, looking around as more and more information fell into place. She had to find out whether what she remembered was true, or if she was just going mad.

She walked, keeping careful track of her progress. A hundred feet, turn left. At the elm, turn right and go down the hill. Continue forward, and take the right fork in the path. Look up and-

She gasped. There it was. A statue, carved in stone, stood in a clearing. A human stood, staring curiously in her direction, narrowed in thought. She ran over to it, placing a hand on the pedestal beneath his feet, and found she had begun to cry.

She and Michael had found it when they were walking together. It had been a mystery to both of them, why it was there, and that had been part of the appeal. There were a lot of divine mysteries in the universe, but none that were solely _theirs_. They had stood together for a long while, guessing as to where the man had come from.

He was tall and broad, with long hair and a finely trimmed beard. He looked forward, as though searching for something, one gloved hand on his hip and the other around-

Raphael blinked. The man was holding the Holy Lance, perpendicular to the ground, the point toward the sky. Yet another mystery. One that, if she couldn't fix things, she would be the only one to know about. She found that she didn't like mysteries to solve alone as she liked ones shared with Michael.

Straightening, Raphael looked up at the statue. She would just have to save him then.

Putting aside the thought that she had no idea _how,_ Raphael strode from the clearing, determined to reclaim her brother – the kind, caring brother who took her to the woods and told her she was his favorite – from under God's thumb.


	15. Chapter 15

Man Who Knew Too Little

ch 15

by Jokers

A/N: So this WAS Clubs' chapter, but I was on a plane so I decided hey let's just get this done

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><p>Raphael hated to admit it, but she was feeling hesitant. Making the decision to save Michael was one thing, but it was something else entirely to actually <em>do <em>it, especially considering the fact that she had absolutely no plan. She knew that just walking up to him and saying "hey Michael would you pretty please develop a sense of self, it would be really helpful," would end badly, but what else was she supposed to do? Reaching into his Grace would alert God to her activities just as quickly as speaking to him, and she didn't have the time to slowly reintroduce him to things that might trigger memories. And even if she did, she didn't know if that would work. It had for her, but her behavior had not been modified as much as his (her personality itself had hardly been touched, a fact which had irritated and ashamed her when she figured it out).

So she had stalled for a while, waiting for a miracle solution to come to her for several days before acknowledging that that would never happen. After all God, the maker of miracles, was working against her.

It was afternoon when she decided to stop waiting. Well, it was always afternoon where she was, and pleasantly sunny. She wasn't completely sure, but she thought it was Tuesday. If anyone had told her that someday she would spend hours watching an autistic man fly a kite, she would have laughed in their face, but that was what she was doing. Once she realized that that she was doing this, of course, she did indeed laugh at herself. Then she came to the conclusion that if she had so little to do that she was people-watching, maybe partaking in a suicidal plan to save her older sibling wasn't such a bad idea after all.

It took her only moments to locate Michael's Grace. He was, after all, the only angel in Heaven aside from her (and Castiel, but his Grace had been so suppressed by God's that it was hardly present). Once she found him, she teleported over to him, and found herself standing in front of the Gardens, with Michael staring through her at the massive wooden gate that she suspected (and confirmed with a quick energy scan) God was behind.

"Michael." She said, carefully keeping her voice even. His gaze shifted slightly, eyes focusing on her face.

"Sister." He responded, his tone the monotonous drawl of someone two seconds from falling asleep where he stood.

"I need to speak to you."

"Then speak." He said, as though that were the only possible answer.

"Not here." Raphael said anxiously. She winced internally, hoping he wouldn't catch her nervousness. When he didn't react, she let out a sigh of relief, thankful that when God took away Michael's personality, he seemed to have also taken away his uncanny talent for calling bluffs.

"Why can't we speak here? I was instructed to wait for Father."

"Did he say to wait right outside the door?"

"No." She smiled.

"Then we can speak somewhere else. You'll be back by the time he concludes his business." Raphael had no idea whether that was a lie. She really hoped it wasn't.

Michael was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting rapidly between her and the gate before focusing back on her.

"Very well." He said, allowing her to broadcast a location into his mind.

The two of them left the Gardens, unaware that the figure within was watching them with a disapproving frown on His face.

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><p>"What did you wish to say?" Michael asked once the two of them had rematerialized. He quickly scanned the area around them, finding no threats. At that point, he should have lost interest. He really should have. But instead he found his eyes drawn to his surroundings, the trees and the shadows holding his focus for far longer than was necessary. He very deliberately turned his gaze toward Raphael, who still hadn't answered his question. She pursed her lips, staring at him, looking for something, then making a disappointed noise in her throat when she didn't find it.<p>

"Do you recognize this place at all?" She sounded desperate, and Michael felt a flash of concern for her before it was washed away by the calm that settled omnipresently over his mind. Michael, for the first time, wasn't sure whether he was alright with that.

"No." He said, and she wilted slightly. A flash of confusion which was swept up slightly faster than the concern.

"Are you completely sure?" She said, and he decided he might as well take a closer look. He turned around, taking in every detail of the woods. He looked up, squinting against a shaft of bright light that had fought its way through the trees. He looked left, and found a tree stump that, around a foot off the ground, jutted off at a ninety degree angle parallel to the mossy forest floor. Then he looked right, and what he saw gave him pause.

Almost without making a conscious decision, he took a step forward. Then another. Then another, and eventually he felt himself reach up and place a hand on the statue in front of him. He looked up at it, and felt a barely-there wisp of bewilderment work its way through his Grace. A small bit of him cheered, told him that this was good, that it was right for him to feel _something _in front of this monument, but the rest of his brain insisted that nothing so frivolous could be necessary. So he brushed the flicker of confusion away, turning his attention to his Father, who he could sense behind him. Michael teleported to God's side, feeling his brain shift out of focus as he awaited His orders.

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><p>"Careful, if you stare at that spoon any more menacingly it'll catch on fire." Gabriel said. Dean turned said death glare at the archangel, who let out a laugh.<p>

"I'll set you on fire."

"Aww, that's not nice, Dean. Here I am trying to be helpful, and all you do is threaten me. That hurts, it really does." Gabriel clutched his chest to show Dean precisely how painful his lack of goodwill was.

"Shut up and let me eat my cereal." Dean snapped. Gabriel eyed the bowl of congealed milk and cornflakes, then stuck out his tongue and made a gagging noise.

"Yeah right, you've been 'eating your cereal' for two hours now." Lucifer appeared in the seat beside Gabriel. Dean's only acknowledgement of the second archangel's presence was a very rude gesture.

"No, you don't understand Lucy," Gabriel grinned impishly, "this is the only way Winchester men can express their _feelings_."

"Well, his expression's getting a little annoying. Listen Winchester, if you don't start talking about your emotions right now I'm turning your life into a musical and not changing it back until you sing them like a little birdy."

"Then you'd have to sing too." Dean grumbled, taking a reluctant bite of his cereal.

"Are you kidding? I'm an _excellent_ singer. We're called the choir for a reason, kid, and it's not because we gave blowjobs to priests." Dean let out a choking noise, and Gabriel shot his older brother a wink of approval.

"Holy shit. Thanks for that image. Now I'm never going to sleep again."

"Good, sleeping is overrated. Now, tell Uncle Lucy about your problems before your angst gives me a hernia."

"Fuck you, there's nothing to talk about."

"Mhmm." Lucifer leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands and grinning like a satisfied cat.

"Shut up."

"I'm not saying anything. Gabriel, am I saying anything?"

"I don't think so." Dean looked at Gabriel, then Lucifer, then Gabriel again, and let out a dissatisfied growl.

"Oh. Oh. Ohhhhh. You have a crush on Cassie, don't you?" Gabriel said. Dean jumped back in his seat, dropping his silverware to the table with a '_clang.'_

"What? That's crazy. What the hell?"

"Yeah, he does, doesn't he? Now that I look back, it was kind of obvious."

"Wait, how would you even get that from me staring at a spoon?"

"Hello, mind reader, remember?" Gabriel said, as though that were the most natural answer in the world. Dean shook his head, disgusted, and stood, knocking over his chair. Gabriel locked eyes with Lucifer, looking genuinely confused.

"Was it something I said?"

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><p>"Raphael. What were you doing?" Raphael said nothing, but God seemed to understand precisely what she was thinking, "So you would betray me as your brothers did?" God didn't sound surprised, or hurt. He likely knew of Raphael's treachery already. Of course he did, Michael thought. God knew all. He stood there, not totally registering the scene before him. If he was needed, God would call him.<p>

Raphael nodded once, hesitantly. Then again, deliberately, confidently. She knew the cost of denouncing the Father so close to Him. She may as well go all in.

"What do you want me to do, then," God asked, voice flat as he drew an angel blade from thin air, "I could fix you, of course. But then again, why should I? I'm so close to my goal, and then I can make _new_ angels. Angels who will listen to me. Like your brother here." God smiled wickedly, running a finger across Michael's shoulder. Michael had the sudden, irrational urge to shiver.

Raphael stared at Michael, eyes wide. Like she knew what was going to happen. He stared back, his focus returning to him slightly and, before the thought was whisked away, he wondered why. If he understood his Father's tone correctly, Raphael was about to be destroyed. His Father didn't need him for that.

_Raphael does._ A quiet, insistent voice whispered in his ear. No, not a voice. A thought. Why would he think that, though? He wasn't supposed to think. He was supposed to follow orders.

But he couldn't stop, and this time everything stayed inside his brain, festering. One thought followed by another. _She needs you_ followed by _you need her_ followed by_ save her you fool_, and then God's sword was falling and Michael was moving and he felt something go through his stomach. For a moment, there was no pain. He looked up, saw Raphael sitting on the ground where he'd pushed her, and sighed. He closed his eyes. It got dark. He still didn't understand why he was thinking, but in that moment it didn't matter. She was safe.

Then the pain started, and Michael screamed.

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><p>Raphael was prepared for the sword to pierce her chest. For a moment of pain, and then a burning light bursting forth from her vessel. She had seen enough of her brothers die, had killed enough of them (and for what? God's <em>game<em>?) to know what would happen.

Only it didn't. Instead, she felt a pair of hands push her to the side. She landed in an undignified heap on the ground and blinked. Michael was standing there, sword piercing his stomach (the height where her heart would be as she kneeled in front of God). He looked confused, eyes hazy as they took in the sword, then God, then her.

When he looked over at her, the emptiness on his face faded ever so slightly. He looked relieved, and tired, and almost…fond? Then the sword pulled from his body and he crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach, white light spilling forth from the wound and his mouth contorted into a silent scream. God looked down at him, his face disappointed for a moment before he recovered his composure.

"Hmm, perhaps not like Michael then. A shame, he was rather amusing. Well then, I suppose I'll have to kill you both?" Raphael couldn't look at him, so instead she fixed her gaze on Michael. No, no, that was even worse. She shut her eyes, and Michael's face was only imprinted on the lids a tiny bit. It was a manageable agony. She heard a God chuckle, and felt a hand grip her shoulder, pulling her up.

"Oh come now, dear. Don't cry," God said, his voice not at all comforting, "You know what? I'll do you a favor. I _won't_ kill you. No, no. I have something far better planned." God's fingers dug harshly into her flesh for a moment, and then she was screaming alongside Michael as her Grace tore its way from her body.

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><p>AN: SorrysorrysorryI'materribleperson.


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